Apotheosis
by Memoriam
Summary: What if Holy and Meteor weren't the only way? Obviously somewhat AU, AerisSephiroth talky, grim, formatting fixed. Chapter 14: In which anything fails to happen.
1. Hoarse Whispers

Aniko sighed and slumped down in her chair, idly glancing at the bank of monitors that took up most of the nurse's station she was assigned to. Being transferred to Dr. Hojo's research facility had seemed like a wonderful opportunity, a chance to distinguish herself in the eyes of Shinra's medical division and participate in exciting new breakthroughs… the reality was anything but. Long nights sent sitting in a bright, empty hallway, watching Hojo's various test subjects sleep on the monitors, attempting to piece together the experiments they were a part of from the cryptic reports left scattered around… she was even locked out of all but the most basic of the main computer's functions.

Returning her gaze to the monitors, she frowned. The first bank showed nothing but empty rooms, sterilely awaiting their next occupants. The second contained views of caged animals: mice, dogs, monkeys, and a few more exotic creatures she was hard-pressed to put names to. A mouse ran frantically on its exercise wheel, but otherwise there was no movement other than the soft rise and fall of slumbering sides.

The third bank was the most intriguing. Completely empty until a few days ago, one of the rooms now contained a young teenaged girl. Aniko once again scrutinized her carefully, wondering what her purpose here might be… and where she might have come from. Pretty enough, with a soft fall of brown hair obscuring blue eyes, she was nonetheless rather skinny and scruffy, although she seemed to take pains with her hygiene. None of Aniko's information made any reference to the girl; she had simply appeared one day, designated as project 63. Aniko had yet to see her rise from her bed, although she often lay awake at night, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Frustrated by her lack of knowledge, she turned to retrieve her magazine from the drawer at her elbow--and gasped at the apparition that had materialized beside the station.

The slender figure easily topped six feet; swathed in black, a long fall of silken white hair hung lankly, disappearing out of sight below his waist. Baleful green eyes were fixed intently on the monitors behind her; at her gasp, his fierce gaze shifted to her. Expressionless, he laid a plastic card on the counter and slid it towards her. "My authorization," he said, his voice a harsh whisper, incongruous with his angelic appearance.

Nervously, Aniko glanced around the hall as she slid the card into the computer's reader. She should have heard the automatic doors sliding open and closed, should have heard his footsteps echoing down the long hallway. Yet he stood before her, seeming almost to have materialized… the machine beeped.

**SEPHIROTH. D.O.B UNLISTED. S.O.L.D.I.E.R. ID 6487948. CLEARANCE HATUHMOD.**

__

_Oh my God, _him! No wonder he had been able to approach so silently… this was the famous warrior, his decorations and exploits unmatched, the one the newswires hinted was being groomed to lead the upcoming assault on Wutai; the one who never allowed interviews, or any public attention. 

But what was he doing here?

His gaze had shifted back to the monitors. "Number… sixty three," he rasped. "I am to escort to another location."

The girl. Of course; why else the unusual visitor? "I'm sorry, sir," she said nervously, reluctant to meet his eyes, "but I'm not trained or authorized to handle subj--err, patients--"

"Then it is fortunate that I am," he interrupted. "See that I am not disturbed."

"Yes, sir," she answered quickly, removing his ID card from the reader and sliding it back to him. Without another word he spun on his heel and strode silently to the doors separating them from the subject area. The doors hissed open after he swiped his card, and shut seconds after he passed through them.

They had certainly been audible that time.


	2. Gentle Hands

Once the doors slid shut behind him, Sephiroth allowed himself to relax fractionally. He'd had no doubt he'd be able to breeze past any staff he encountered; he was, after all, S.O.L.D.I.E.R.'s shining star, and Hojo's special… pet. He regretted having to use his own identification, but it couldn't be helped. This night's repercussions would be so widespread he could not hope to go undiscovered.

_This is madness._

Nevertheless, here he was. Moreover, that useless nurse was undoubtedly watching this hesitation avidly on her monitor; that wouldn't do. He set off down the hall, pretending to check each door as his passed. 

The girl had sold flowers in Midgar. He knew this because she had frequented the passages between the plates, and he had observed the urchin during his crossings as he observed everything: dispassionately, assessing, calculating. She, like most others, had never dared to approach him, but he had nevertheless filed her existence away in his seemingly endless memory; one never knew what might turn out to be important.

He was not entirely surprised to see her a few months later when he arrived at Hojo's lab for his scheduled treatments. Hojo had never been able to duplicate whatever it was that made Sephiroth… different, but he had never ceased trying. Failing that, the girl was pretty enough; if she survived, well, Hojo's personal tastes ran to the extreme.

She had sat, dull and disinterested, trailing as skein of tubes as Sephiroth stripped and submitted to the usual barrage of tests: blood, tissue, and saliva had been from him as the host of machines Hojo's assistants attached him to ticked off their readings. He had long since given up being embarrassed or discomfited by it; he had been Hojo's all his life.

The injections were another story.

Finally left alone, sick and weak, he had shakily dressed himself and staggered for the door, bereft of his usual catlike grace. Unthinking, he had brushed past the girl--who reached out and trailed her fingers down his sleeve. Startled, he paused, giving her the opportunity to brush the bare flesh of his hand.

The shock of her touch was indescribable; warm, cool, electrifying, soothing; all that and more sparked from that slight contact. More, he felt a new crackling energy react within himself, giddy and enervating. She twitched in response, but continued to stare sightlessly at the floor. Sephiroth shuddered as the force of that energy blazed through him. "What is this?" he breathed, crouching down beside her. "What did you do?"

She finally turned her head, one crystal blue eye visible beneath her mop of hair. "Nothing, " she murmured. "I did nothing."

"I am not a scientist," he said intently. "I do not care _how._ Tell me _what._"

She shook her head gently. "I touched you, that's all," she said, barely above a whisper. "I meant to help… I didn't know.." She trailed off, returning her gaze to the floor. 

Sephiroth stared at her, wanting to seize her by the scruff of the neck and shake a proper answer out of her, but not quite daring. Whatever the reaction between them had been, it had felt too good to be harmful… but still. He was unable to discern anything from her appearance; just a poor, shabby girl who looked barely conscious. But still… but still. "Can you keep this from Hojo?" he asked. "This incident, and this… reaction?"

No response. In retrospect he was lucky to have gotten her to speak as much as she had; the tranquilizers used on unstable subjects in the lab were incredibly powerful. Sighing, he rose and raked a hand through his sweaty silver hair. "It is unfortunate that you have ended up here," he said finally. She remained silent; unsure of how else to proceed, he turned and left the lab.

Later that night he exploited his new security clearance for the first time. Even so, there was precious little information available. Nothing pertaining specifically to that strange girl; the only unusual item nearly made Sephiroth laugh aloud. Hojo believed he had gotten his hands on a Cetra! He did chuckle; he had thought the good doctor far too old to believe in fairy tales.

A Cetra. A dryad, a nature spirit… a healer.

No, it couldn't be.

_There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio…_

Confused and disturbed, he accessed a mythology database and began to peruse the entry on Cetras. Fairies, healers, an affinity with nature, empaths. Well, that wasn't it; he hadn't felt ill or miserable as she surely had. Guardians of the wild places, creators… a line of text caught his eye.

_"Often shrines were built in places reputed to have been homes of Cetra couples; it was believed the energy produced by their touching was the most pure creative force."_

She had said she meant to help… and that she hadn't known. Known _what?_ What had caused that spark of power between them?

The energy produced by their touching…

Sephiroth, born and raised in Hojo's lab, had never known exactly what it was that made him different, superior. Well, Hojo was a geneticist; it stood to reason that Sephiroth had been altered somehow, but he had never known the specifics. Even stranger, it now occurred to him that he had never really been curious about it; he who pursued every trail of logic to its bitter end.

How bizarre was that?

He knew that he was unique; Hojo had never been able to produce another specimen as fine as Sephiroth. He had never questioned that failure, but…

_…the energy produced by their touching…_

…could it be that Hojo failed because he had never been able to acquire more of the material he had created Sephiroth from?

Was that girl really a Cetra?

Was _he?_

Utter foolishness. And yet… and yet.

He returned to Hojo's research database and began to see just how far his new clearance would take him.

The information he discovered was what led to his presence this evening. The hints that his guesses at his true origins were correct actually disturbed him very little; the forgetfulness, the lack of curiosity… that did. He was not jealous of his unique status, but the little he had been able to glean from his searches had been deeply worrisome. Hojo was not breeding simply for physical superiority, after all; no, that was the last thing the program was aiming for, just a happy side effect. He had been unable to discover what the ultimate aim of the program truly was; he did not intend to give anyone a chance to find out.

Aeris. The name Hojo had e-mailed a request to the Census Bureau to delete from their computers was Aeris Gainsborough. Standard operating procedure; no one could miss a person that didn't exist.

Finally unable to put it off any longer, he stopped in front of her door. His shoulders itched for the comfortable weight of Masamune, left behind for this adventure. Checking his pocket for the hypogun's comforting weight, he keyed open the door.


	3. Bloody Feet

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Aeris is sick Aeris is hurt can't fix why why why

She sighed softly and turned her face into the coolness of the thin pillow, the sharp smell of disinfectant stinging her nostrils. The voice continued to hum in the back of her mind.

__

Wake Aeris rise Aeris danger here danger danger

But she couldn't wake… didn't want to. Her mind was a blur; she was barely able to string a coherent thought together. _I met that young man on the way to the garden… I was afraid to jump… why did I need to jump?_

Yes yes Aeris thinks Aeris remembers Aeris was chased Aeris was caught

I'm so tired, why can't you let me sleep? she thought piteously at the voice.

__

Sleep forever soon if Aeris doesn't wake Aeris doesn't run

She moaned softly, twisting her head back and forth. She couldn't _remember!_ The young man… and the jump she hadn't made… long featureless hallways… the reek of antiseptic… and that sharp, crackling presence she had encountered.

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Aeris isn't scared

But I could be… should be… am? She couldn't bring forth an image of who or what it was, but it had shocked her out of her daze for a few brief moments. A fierce, roiling energy that had almost reminded her of her mother, the only other of her kind she'd known… but yet so different. A buzzing, the taste of lemons, the acrid stench of burning leaves; not directed against her, not hostile, but awesome in its depth and unlike anything she had ever experienced.

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Wicked

Not bad

Wickedwickedwicked

Sound. Movement. She turned her head and opened her eyes, fuzzily trying to focus on the door. A figured silhouetted in light, then darkness again as the door closed. Blinking, she was able to track the dark shape as it crossed the small room and crouched beside her bed. A leather-gloved hand pressed her chin upwards; she gasped at a rush of cold air and a sting at her throat.

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Wickedwickedwicked

Not bad

"I have given you a stimulant," a low voice rumbled out of the darkness. "It will take effect in a few moments."

She frowned, trying to make sense of that simple statement, then winced as light flooded her vision. Blinking painfully, she struggled to make out the person looming over her. A thin wom--no, a man, met her muddled gaze expressionlessly, his green eyes oddly lambent. Those eyes were strangely familiar; she had seen them before, only they had been blazing, glowing emerald then…

"You're him!" she gasped, propping herself up on one elbow. "The one from the lab, the one who--"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," he said coldly, fine features hardening into a glare. She could have bitten her tongue; surely they were being observed, and hadn't he--yes, he had asked her not to talk about what had happened. She didn't think she had until now, but why the secre--her train of thought abruptly derailed as she caught sight of the stylized S logo over the lockplate of the door.

Shinra.

She glanced around, quickly taking in her surroundings; she was in a sparsely appointed hospital room… with a Shinra logo on the door.

A laboratory. Shinra research.

_Oh, no._

Her visitor had followed the direction of her gaze, then turned back to her. Rising, he stepped back from the bed. "Can you stand?"

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Wickedwickedwicked

Aeris runs Aeris flees

The Planet spoke! Relief surged through her, and she found she could stand.

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Of course of course love you Aeris stands Aeris flees

She felt a sudden rush of lightheadedness and swayed, almost falling; the man made no move to steady her. "Sit if you must," he said. "I won't carry you."

"No, I'm fine," she replied. "Just a little dizzy."

"Then come." He opened the door and gestured for her to proceed him through it.

They passed through so many coded doors and manned checkpoints she quickly lost count; her guide led her rapidly along, occasionally murmuring a few brief words to the guards they encountered, but otherwise silent. Aeris began to grow frightened; she realized she knew this man, even before their encounter in the lab. He was the captain of the Shinra headquarters' troop of S.O.L.D.I.E.R.s, and was often seen abroad in Midgar, alone or with his men. No one she knew had ever known his name or anything about him except he brutality; he was well known for his vicious and bloody response to insurrections.

_The Angel of Death, he's called. And what is a S.O.L.D.I.E.R. doing in a lab, or taking me from one? I hope, I hope, I hope he's just taking me somewhere… maybe I can escape then… he can't want anything from me, please don't let him--_

Stay safe stay safe stay safe

Wickedwickedwicked

Stay safe

Her anxiety and growing terror only increased when they exited the building entirely. Shinra's vast grounds spread out before them, harshly limned by the floodlights spaced out along the high brick walls surrounding the campus. Her captor took her elbow and guided her down one of the raked gravel paths dividing the neatly manicured lawns.

"You've seen the inside of the building. Each one of those towers contains a sniper equipped with night vision and a rifle powerful enough to destroy anything he can aim at," he rasped softly, his words barely audible. "Three of the four quadrants--the two front, and the rear to the south of us--are likewise equipped with motion sensors, which will trigger a siren and hidden banks of lights, which will bring you to the attention of the fellows up there." He pointed. "They've been left deactivated in this sector because it is a popular spot for the less affluent members of S.O.L.D.I.E.R. to become acquainted with their young ladies."

The night was warm, but Aeris shivered, pulling her rough gray hospital tunic closer. _Please don't let him want--_ "Why are you telling me this?" she asked tremulously. "I would never try to run from you."

They had reached a small iron bench, surrounded by ornamental rocks. He sank down onto one end, neatly folding his legs beneath him and resting his chin on his fists. He gestured for her to sit; heart in her throat she did, staying as far from him as she could.

"I tell you these things because you will need to fabricate a story if you are apprehended," he said frankly. "I have brought you here, where we will be unobserved, because I wish to offer you a bargain." His eyes sparked, giving an eerie cast to his delicate features. "If you answer my questions truthfully, I will walk you to a gate and release you as easily as I have taken you from the facility. If--"

__

SAFE

"--you do not, I will break your neck and return the corpse to your room."

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Still safe stay safe

Wicked

Safe

Aeris let out the breath she had been holding in a ragged sound that was almost a sob. Safe, the Planet said; it had an interesting idea of what safe meant. "Wh-what do you want to know?"

He was silent for a long time. He looked like a statue of ebony and marble, except for the long silver hair that tossed in the soft breeze, tickling her legs. Finally he spoke. "Is Hojo right? Are you a Cetra?"

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Truth truth truth

"Not entirely," she said slowly. "My mother was… and I take after her. But I am only half."

"Have you read what is written about your mother's people? How much of it is true?"

"Very little… and all of it." She told him of the Ancients, their stewardship and connection to all life, the Lifestream and her eventual duty to it, Shinra's plans to harvest and destroy it, the voice of the Planet--

He straightened. "It actually _speaks_ to you? The planet itself? Verbally?"

"Not in a way others can hear, she explained. "It's a presence in my mind, always with me."

__

Love you

"And what does it talk about?" he asked, propping his chan back on his fists. "No, never mind, it's not important. And you will suicide to join with this voice--the Lifestream?"

"_Not _suicide," she said heatedly. "But yes, I will take my place in it when the time comes.

He was silent again. The glow slowly returned to his eyes, softer and more steady this time. Aeris shivered; even in a terrifyingly uncertain situation like this, she was struck by his odd, unearthly beauty. She had never before encountered a person like him; she didn't think she wished to in the future.

He looked up at her, capturing her gaze. "And… what am I?"

It was Aeris's turn to be silent, carefully considering her response. What did he expect her to know--what did he want to hear?

__

Truth truth truth

"I don't know," she finally admitted. "I've only known one other Ancient, my mother, and you're not like her--not much. There was never a shock like that between us. Nothing like that has ever happened before." She lowered her eyes. "But you're not human. No human has… energy like yours." She bit her lip and glanced up at him. "Please don't be angry."

His gaze had turned inward, his eyes smoldering. Paradoxically, she found she wished she had been able to tell him something else, not to buy her life with, but because he seemed so… depressed by her answer. It struck her that he was taking a terrible risk with her, and whatever information he'd hoped she knew must be very important to him. Why did her lack of knowledge distress him so?

Would he still keep his word?

The wind teased her with the tips of his mane for a long time. The glow in his eyes guttered out, and he straightened his legs beneath him. "Well," he murmured. "Well. I think you're too frightened to lie to me." She froze, uncertain of how to respond; he stood. "Come."

Aeris scrambled to her feet, noticing the pain of the small rocks digging into her thin cotton slippers for the first time. He turned and strode off deeper into the grounds, seemingly unconcerned whether or not she followed. She had to trot to keep up with him. The area he led her into was much darker, and she kept track of his progress mostly by the soft crunch of gravel and the snap of his coat in the wind.

They finally came to the gate he had spoken of; much smaller than the others she had seen, it was also unmanned, although the lenses attached to it seemed to be monitoring devices. He tapped numbers into the keypad, and it swung open silently.

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SAFE

Aeris took a deep breath, staring out into the unrestricted night before her. He was really going to let her go! But where? She didn't know where she was, where Midgar was, where if friends were, if they were still free--

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Aeris calms Aeris relaxes

"Aeris--"

She whirled, startled to hear her name spoken aloud. He had taken a silent step towards her, and stripped off one of his gloves as she watched. His eyes crackled green again, and he licked his lips. Slowly he reached towards her face.

_He's going to touch me this time!_ she thought frantically, not entirely unexcited by the prospect.

She tilted her chin up for him, anticipating and fearing the contact--but his hand stopped and hovered a breath from her cheek for a long moment. Then he gestured to the open gate. "Go."

Silent and disturbed, she stepped through, then turned back to him. "What's your name?"

The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a sardonic smile. "Midgar is east," he said hoarsely, and shut the gate.

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Wicked?


	4. Dark Deeds

Braddock stretched, closing his eyes against the twilit gloom of his office. It had been a long but profitable day; many entries in the daybooks of he and his employer had been moved to the 'completed' file. He was proud of his efficiency; being an executive assistant, particularly to someone as erratic as Rufus Shinra, was more difficult than most people realized.

But there was one more matter to be planned for today. Resettling his glasses on his nose, he opened the e-mail he had received from the head of Shinra's special operative group, the Turks, and scanned it once again.

_AVALANCHE apprehension much more difficult than anticipated; request assignment of a S.O.L.D.I.E.R. Black operative ASAP. Respond with identification and estimated time of arrival._

Braddock frowned, thinking back to his conversation with the head of S.O.L.D.I.E.R. that morning. The trouble was that there _weren't _any S.O.L.D.I.E.R. Blacks any more; many of the original group were the foundation of the Turks themselves; those who hadn't joined were retired, missing, or had been… disposed of. Cross-referencing the Black roster with S.O.L.D.I.E.R.'s current enrollment, he had been able to come up with only one name: Sephiroth. 

Only Sephiroth was currently involved in the mopup of the Wutai conflict; had, in fact, led the assault himself, a brutal onslaught that had quickly ended with Wutai's submission. Even then, Sephiroth had not permitted his forces to relent; every day more news footage rolled in of S.O.L.D.I.E.R.s slaughtering unarmed refugees, their leader often right beside them wielding a large curved sword. Needless to say this footage did little to convince the populace of the need for the 'pacification of Wutaian militants,' and was suppressed as quickly as possible.

Such behavior was finally beginning to draw concern from Shinra's upper echelons, although it seemed the scale and publicity were what distressed them, rather than the actions themselves. Braddock had seen Sephiroth's record of duty; surprisingly short considering his recent promotion to general, it was nonetheless a nightmare of assassinations, torture, demolition, and rampant sociopathy. _At least he's on our side, _Braddock thought morosely, and pulled up the file again.

Yes, Sephiroth was well regarded… he had only received one mark of censure in his career, and the details were so classified even Braddock couldn't access them. He had heard bits and pieces of the story, though; something like that was too bizarre not to get around. Sephiroth had apparently walked into the research wing one night, and walked out with a girl who had been kept there, making no attempt to hide his theft. Gossip had never explicitly stated what had happened to her, but it had surely been nasty; raped and murdered, most likely. Whatever he had done to her, no trace had ever been found, and the research head, Hojo, had been furious. That had ended in Sephiroth being transferred from Research--and odd place for a man of his duties to be assigned anyway--to S.O.L.D.I.E.R. full-time, and, ironically, begun the ascent of his career a few years ago.

Still… while having a tame monster like Sephiroth might be useful, it was definitely felt that he was too visible at the moment. Such things as his talents lended themselves to were best done in the dark. Perhaps it wouldn't be a tremendous problem to remove him from Wutai and send him after this AVALANCHE group.

Confident the recommendation wouldn't be discarded, Braddock opened another program and began a new e-mail. A few moments later he received the response: an annotated dossier on AVALANCHE. The information was distressingly sparse. Apparently they were an environmentalist group of some sort who had recently begun taking violent action; they were responsible for the bombing of Reactor 7, an invasion of the President's mansion, and a hijacking, among a host of lesser crimes. However, Shinra intelligence had been unable to discover _who _they were; the only positive ID they had was a young man named Cloud Strife, an ex-guardsman and a failed S.O.L.D.I.E.R. himself. He allegedly associated with a woman named Tifa, a large man with a cybernetic weapon, another unidentified woman, and a half dozen others, according to eyewitnesses. Troubling; they seemed a paltry group to have wreaked such havoc, let alone given the Turks so much trouble that they asked for help. Still, it wasn't his job to wonder why they needed help; he simply had to arrange it as quickly and conveniently as possible. 

Braddock began his last email of the evening, advising Mr. Rufus of the reasons he felt Sephiroth would be suited for the role, finally attaching the Turks' request, the AVALANCHE dossier, and Sephiroth's resume before sending it off. As he did so, Sephiroth's bloodstained list of atrocities caught his eye again, and he shuddered involuntarily. _I hope he doesn't need to come here for a briefing; I'd hate to meet him in the hall._

Well, Mr. Rufus would be the one speaking to the general, not Braddock.

_A tame monster indeed._


	5. Predatory Smiles

The general was currently seated at his wide mahogany desk, fingers flying across the keyboard before him as he assessed the latest troop movements. He frowned at the slight retreat of his armored units, and slipped his hand below the desk to guide the bobbing head of the young aide-de-camp who crouched there into a more pleasurable position.

Seemingly unmoved by her ministrations, Sephiroth leaned back, stretched his shoulders, and debated the value of a sharp communiqué to the units' leader. The man had a great touch with the enlisted men, but he was simply not cut out for active combat. It would be a shame to waste such a great steward, though… more likely it would require a personal visit, an opportunity to put the fear of God into the NCOs in the hopes they'd head off the worst of their commandant's bad decisions. He flicked to another screen and tapped out instructions for one of his aides to check his schedule and arrange the trip.

Absently, he reached down and cupped the aide's face; she moaned softly as the caress. He was never certain whether the various young women considered such service part of their duty, a potential means of advancement, or were genuinely attracted to him; not did he particularly care, as long as they passed their background checks. Leadership had its privileges.

The last few years had been remarkably easy on Sephiroth; he found himself wondering in odd moments how much farther ahead he'd be if he had crossed Hojo sooner. He'd had no real idea what the reaction to Aeris's disappearance--or 'theft,' as the disciplinary board had termed it--would be; anything from being stripped of his position and handed over to Hojo for full-time research to outright execution; any number of outcomes that would cause him to have to flee Shinra. But amazingly, the company had valued their killer over their scientist; when Hojo continued to rage, Sephiroth had been removed from his grasp entirely, allowed to devote all of his energies towards being S.O.L.D.I.E.R.'s red right hand.

He did love the work.

The disbanding of Black and subsequent formation of the Turks had left him nonplussed; he did not relish the idea of being demoted to a skulking bully. But he had been allowed to remain a S.O.L.D.I.E.R., and building on his experience as a guard captain, he had quickly risen through the chain of command. Leading troops was both disappointing and more fulfilling than he had expected; while he spent more time in this office than he'd like, armies gave him the opportunity for destruction on a scale he'd never dreamed of… and there were plenty of opportunities to get into the thick of things. Keep his hand in, as it were.

All because of Aeris: the girl who had spoken only of peace and gentleness. He'd never forgotten her, or their conversation; had, in fact, spent much of the last few years trying to build on the meager store of knowledge she'd shared with him. He hadn't had much luck. There was plenty of babble about a City of the Ancients and some sort of apocalypse that would either create or open the way to a so-called Promised Land, depending on which book you preferred. Since those same books contained lurid tales of unicorns and mermaids, he doubted them all.

But she had not lied to him; once he had learned what to watch for, he felt echoes of many things she had described. Sometimes, particularly up north, he felt a low, peculiar thrumming in his bounds… even though she had insisted he was not a Cetra, he could almost believe the planet was trying to speak to him.

Never, ever had he encountered another sensation like her touch in the laboratory, however. Nothing that electrifying, that… sublime…

The woman sensed his sudden tension; not suspecting the true reason for it, she began to work faster. Sephiroth's eyes droops shut; soon thoughts of the girl and his mysterious heritage were driven from his mind as his breathing hitched; then he sighed and rolled his chair back to allow the woman space to rise. She stood and straightened her uniform. "Thank you," he said thickly, "that will be all." She nodded and quickly left the office. 

He sat quietly for a few more moments, trying to recapture his train of thought, but it was no good. Resigned, he tucked himself away and rolled back to his desk to continue with the troop movements. It would be good to return to Wutai… the office life didn't much suit him…

A short while later he was interrupted by a rap at his door. Annoyed, he glanced up in time to see it opened by a familiar, reviled figure.

Rufus Shinra bounded through the door, his grin wide, cheerful, and false. "Sephiroth," he practically crowed, "I'm so glad you could make time to see me." They both knew it was a lie; Rufus never bothered with appointments, and Sephiroth's staff would never dare allow him through without ample warning.

Nonetheless, Sephiroth rose and bowed low over his desk. "I am always honored to speak with the President's son," he said, respectfully neutral. To say that he despised Rufus was a gross understatement; he considered the man a spoiled brat who knew too much power and too little responsibility. For a time after Black was disbanded but before the Turks were formed, he had attempted to conscript Sephiroth into his private bodyguard, impressed by his reputation as the 'angel of death.' Sephiroth had… convinced him otherwise… very harshly. Fortunately, shortly thereafter the President himself approved Sephiroth's transfer out.

_But I must play the game._

Bowing more slightly this time, he gestured to the chairs before the desk. "Please, sit, and tell me how I may be of service to you."

Rufus sprawled into one of the leather armchairs, but did not look at Sephiroth: his attention was drawn instead to Masamune; the great katana hung behind the desk, comfortably within reach. "I see you've been busy," he said. "That sword has a few more notches in it than I remember."

Indeed it had. "I am only recently come from Ice Village," he replied. "Wutaian sympathizers were becoming troublesome, helping leaders of the rebellion to escape north." He smiled thinly; no need to mention the 'rebel leaders' had all been too young or too old to fight. "They are no longer a concern."

"Well, it's good to hear you're so involved with your work," Rufus said, the plastic smile once more stretching his face, but Sephiroth could tell the man was unnerved. "That's actually what I've come to speak to you about. How does your command suit you?"

Sephiroth folded his hands behind his back and raised an eyebrow. "I am pleased to serve in any capacity Shinra sees fit for me."

Rufus raked a hand through his hair. "Look, I know your background. All of this… it's got to be a big change for someone who's so used to the nitty-gritty aspects of life, am I right?"

Sephiroth nodded noncommittally.

"The operation has gone great--you did a wonderful job--but Wutai is pretty much dead these days. You're just mopping up the stragglers now, right?"

He nodded again, wondering where this was going.

"The rest of this operation could easily be handled by someone else--someone way below your caliber. In fact, it's pretty much a waste of your time here, and we've got something lined up that should be much more worthy of your efforts."

"Oh?"

"Remember the reactor explosion awhile back?" Rufus leaned forward. "The Turks found who did it."

"I trust they did an excellent job."

"The Turks…" Rufus smiled deprecatingly and made a back-and-forth gesture with one hand. "They're great, but this isn't really their thing. We need someone with experience in these matters. And a strong stomach." He grinned. "We've got a pretty interesting use in mind for these guys."

"Oh?" Sephiroth repeated, finally stepping forward to sit behind his desk. "Tell me more."

A few hours later, Sephiroth stepped into the alley behind Seventh Heaven. Checking to make sure he was unobserved, he quickly wiped the scarlet from Masamune's blade and sheathed the sword at his back. Pulling the hood of his cloak closer he set off, boots splashing in the mire. Rufus had asked him to proceed directly to Kalm Village to liase with the Turks, but he found doing his own research so much more… rewarding.

_Too much time indoors, hmm?_

This is going to be very fun.


	6. Bitter Tears

__

home home home

love you Aeris is home Aeris is home

She giggled helplessly, spinning around to take in the view. The walls and columns around them were purest mako, dark, crystalline, and beautiful, branching out into numberless twisting bridges and passageways, cut through with streams and pools of liquid pulsing softly purple with the energy that pervaded them. Her skin tingled, electrified by power, and the voice of the Planet sang loudly and joyously in her ears.

The City of the Ancients.

Cloud approached from behind her, scuffing his boots. She turned and clasped his hands, smiling beatifically. "We've made it," she gushed. "Even I doubted sometimes, but we're here, we're _here,_ and everything will be fine now!"

__

fine safe never hurt never harm

He ducked his head, blonde hair obscuring his eyes. "This place is something," he agreed finally. "But the Turks beat us here… Tseng couldn't get in, and someone got him… whoever did that could be in here… maybe the rest of the Turks found a back way in…"

"Silly," she soothed him, only an Ancient can use the key, and I'm the only one--"

__

truth truth truth

"--a-and we'll be safe now, the Black Materia will be safe," she finished lamely. She _was _the only Cetra… that S.OL.D.I.E.R, that strange, curious man, had no business being up here… no knowledge of how to find the City.

__

truth love you truth

A story above them, Sephiroth sat cross-legged in a great, arching hall, Masamune unsheathed across his lap. He regarded the intricate murals before him: the Cetra dancing, the Lifestream flowing throughout the land… a meteor striking the planet. It all made so much sense now.

Distant, Cloud dropped her hands, continuing to stare at his feet. Even his melancholy couldn't dampen her enthusiasm. Hearing the others catching up she skipped through the great carved doorway before them, knowing what awaited them there.

Tears streaked his thin face. It was all true. It was all there before him.

Silently her friends crowded closer, awed and uncertain. Finally, Barrett snorted. "Girl, you drug us all this way to look at a freakin' doll house?"

She smiled in spite of herself. Resting on the slab of solidified mako before them was a perfect, tiny replica of the temple they now stood in. Nanaki pushed past her to give it an experimental sniff, accidentally nudging the miniature temple.

The ground rumbled beneath them.

"What was that?" Tifa gasped, bouncing to her feet. Cloud drew his sword and stepped back warily.

__

protected here safe here trapped here

Aeris clapped her hands delightedly. "Oh, I should have guessed! The Ancients knew better than to leave something like Black Materia just lying around--this _is _the materia!"

Cait Sith leaned forward and regarded it dubiously. "Doesn't look like any I've ever seen, that's for sure."

"No, no, not the model--although it's the key. Look at the edges; they're seamed. It's a puzzle." She looked up at them, eyes twinkling. "The _Temple itself_ is the Materia!"

__

protected here trapped here

"If you solve the puzzle, it will fold in on itself until it's small enough to be carried--and so will the Temple."

Tifa gave a low whistle. "So whoever tried to work the puzzle would be crushed." She shook her head wonderingly. "Your ancestors weren't as nice as they're made out to be, hon." 

"It was the only way," Aeris responded softly. She looked up. "But there's one thing I can do to make sure it never happens.

__

COME HOME.

He barely registered the quake; his thoughts were too focused inward. He bowed his head and covered his eyes.

_Nibelheim._

Below, Aeris also bowed her head. Kneeling at the small shrine perched atop a natural staircase, she gazed into the calm, crystalline pool beneath her. The Planet, for once, was silent, perhaps understanding her need for this time of contemplation.

So much had happened; she had lived more in these past few years than all of her life before her--escape? rescue?--from the Shinra lab. She had miraculously stumbled into Cloud again the next night, and he had taken her to his friends. They had been standoffish at first, but soon she had learned of AVALANCHE, their dreams for the future, their goals, and loved them for it. They were only humans, but their connection to the planet was as deep and truly felt as her own; she respected their mission, and soon joined them on it.

They had grown desperate… the reactor had been a horrible mistake, a plan she had argued against and refused to aid. But the discoveries that had come afterward--Shinra's plans for the mako energy they brutally wrested from the earth, the experiments, the deaths… they had fled desperately, sometimes only minutes ahead of the Turks, seeking a way to avert the upcoming disaster.

Aeris had always known a way. It was why she had led them here.

_And you will suicide to join with this voice--the Lifestream?_

"Not suicide," she whispered. She had always known this day would come… but was it so wrong to wish she had had more time?

He had tracked the route they had taken from Midgar painstakingly, following in their very footsteps. Until Nibelheim.

The almost-familiar thrumming had been present there, oh yes; had twisted so deep into his bones it made him ill. There was an abandoned Shinra mansion in the small town he had opted to take his rest in. Nauseous and weak, he had short-circuited the lock and stumbled inside, ready to collapse.

And something had spoken to him.

__

Welcome home, my son.

Why had that question, spoken so long ago and in such strange circumstances, ring in her ears now? Aeris almost wished she had the chance to speak to her odd savior again; she had a better idea of what he was now. Not a simple S.O.L.D.I.E.R. showered with mako enhancements, but he had undoubtedly come from one of Shinra's labs.

_His poor mother. What did they do to her?_

The basement… the books. Sweating profusely, barely able to stand, he had nonetheless read, and read, and read. Gast; Hojo; Lucrecia; the uncovered corpse… the manipulation of its cells. The result.

His true mother.

Bred to be perfect, to be vicious, to be the catalyst for Shinra's greatest triumph: the harnessing of the Lifestream itself. Bred like a prize dog.

_The girl told me nothing but the truth._

Weak remnant of a pathetic race that she is.

Bide a moment. Listen to me, my son.

Why? Why do you speak to me now?

Listen to me, child. Listen.

Finally, the Planet again raised its voice, a quiet song in the back of her mind. The time was at hand; she would have to say goodbye.

_Cloud… _she bit her lip. She loved him still, with all the passion her naïve, gentle heart could muster. He was distant, conflicted, confused; but she believed fervently in his essential goodness. She had made herself as available to him as she dared over the years, but he had never noticed, never cared; still, even now, she hoped plaintively for some sign of affection from him, realizing in her heart of hearts that it would probably never come.

He had listened; listened to the virus, the disease, the destroyer of life even greater than he. Her plans, her goal, her other children… her use for him.

For the first time in his life, he had fled into the night.

__

But you are not beyond my reach even now, child.

"GET OUT OF MY MIND!"

Aeris's head jerked up at a sound; she turned, and saw only Cloud slowly making his way up the broad steps. Her heart leaped involuntarily; she lowered her head to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks.

He stopped a few feet away from her, sharing the view of the crystalline pool below. "All of this would almost be worth it simply to have seen the place," he said, and turned to face her. "Are you happy?" he asked abruptly.

Aeris looked up again, puzzled by the question. "Of course I'm happy," she said slowly. "All of my life has led up to my return to the Planet… I will soon be able to defend it in ways I only imagine."

Cloud looked away again. "Good," he replied. "Good."

Slowly, Sephiroth drew his palm across Masamune's slender edge, opening a thin red line; a heartbeat later, it began to bleed. That would be one way to solve things. But she was down there, the last Cetra, the Holy one… Aeris. It was all there in the murals, if one knew what to look for.

It couldn't be allowed to happen.

The radio clipped to his belt began to hiss and crackle with voices. He had dealt with Tseng--no one must be permitted to enter the Temple before her, not even Sephiroth--but left the Temple's entrance wide open; not even the Turks could fail to find it.

It was almost time.

Slowly he rose, exiting the hall and pacing to the end of the ledge, gazing down on the scene playing out below him. He watched, gauging the proper moment… then leaped.

Cloud was not inclined to speak further. Sighing softly, Aeris turned back to the shrine. There was no use delaying any longer.

__

yes yes join come home come home

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind, unsure of how to proceed… and suddenly, breathtakingly, she knew.

__

YES

Spreading her arms, she felt her mind expanding, soaring, rushing at the speed of sound into a deep green light. _This _is what it was to be one with the Planet; _this _is what she was meant for! Gleefully, she abandoned conscious thought and reveled in the dance of Life itself.

Cloud raised his sword.

__

NO

The light froze; seemed to flow backwards. Shocked by the Planet's sudden fierce denials, she snapped back to herself. She heard a shot ring out. "Dammit, she said we was safe here! Son of a bitch, we been set up!" Barrett bawled in the distance. Aeris spun to see Cloud's sword poised over her. "Cloud, what--"

As the blade descended, time seemed to telescope. More shots were fired, and whooping war cries echoed through the cavern. There was a soft them beside her. She turned to see a grinning, green-eyed demon whirl a curved sword around to block Cloud's heavy blow. A booted foot struck the blonde in the chest, knocking him down a few steps. The intruder raised his blade to strike the finishing blow--then reversed it into a sheath slung across his shoulders. "No time," he rasped. Dragging Aeris to her feet, he folded his arms tightly around her middle and flung himself backwards. 

The cool shock of the water snapped her out of her fright. Choking, she sputtered, inhaling a lungful of water. The intruder shifted his grip on her and began stroking powerfully towards the other side, his hair dragging behind like silver seaweed. She coughed as her hauled her ashore, falling to her knees and retching.

"Look, there's more of 'em!"

"Wait a sec, that's Sephiroth--"

Another shot, and this time her captor hissed in pain. "Come _on,_" he growled, dragging her from the water's edge. She stumbled after him; a few steps later he whipped them both into an alcove, crushing her back against his chest, and whipped his sodden cloak around both of them. She cried out as her ankle twisted, and a glove hand clamped over her mouth. "Materia," he panted. "Stay still, and silent, and they will see only shadows."

__

sorry Aeris so sorry

Helpless, she moaned, tears trickling down her cheeks; her captor jerked her roughly. The Turks swarmed over her peaceful little shrine, hunting the pair who had disappeared; they had gotten in somehow! As she watched, a lean woman approached Cloud's prone form, removed a pistol from her belt, and shot straight into his chest. She whimpered again, and the hand tightened even more. "Tranquilizers," he breathed into her ear. "They are meant to be taken alive. Now _hush._"

Numb and stricken, she wept silently as her friends were gathered in the shrine area, unconscious and bound. The raucous cries of the Turks and the ragged breathing of the man clutching her echoed in her ears. _I can't even join them, _she thought piteously. _Not them, not the Lifestream--what _am _I good for?_

sorry Aeris so sorry forgive forgive

If they're still alive to forgive me, I hope.

Aeris forgives Aeris forgives please please

A low rumbling had been building, so subtly it was unnoticeable at first; now it rose to a grinding roar. Dust sifted down as the pillars supporting the cavern began to tremble and twist.

__

forgive forgive forgive

She heard the startled yells of the Turks and saw them scramble to hoist their prizes and flee from the cavern.

The Temple was contracting.

"Good God, enough of this," her captor spat. A fist twisted into her long hair, and slammed the back of her head into the shuddering pillar beside them.


	7. Cold Comfort

She floated timelessly, deathlessly, thoughtlessly, wrapped in bitter cold. All ways were Her ways; all ways were one.

_Defeat._

No, a setback; a time of rest, of contemplation, of gathering force. All times were Her times; all times were one.

_Awake._

Physical location did not matter; the molten flow of power called to Her, crying out its new existence as it seeped through the planet's wounds.

_Hunger._

Things had altered during Her senseless slumber; the crawling ones littered the skin of the earth… and there were no more guardians, save the five that slept.

_Anticipation._

Slowly She unfurled her consciousness, re-examining the tendrils of her power and influence, the strands She had sunk deep into the Planet. And there were extrusions; extrusions She had not made. She battened upon them.

_Resistance._

Rebuffed, She withdrew for a time, examining these new parts of Herself. They were not entirely of Her; they were mixtures of Herself and the crawling ones and other weak flesh. Most were deeply flawed, offensive to Her perfect symmetry; but there was one that resonated with the same silicate power as Her own. Imperfect; bound by the constraints of mortal flesh; but her crystalline core was deep within its makeup. Deep enough to serve Her purpose.

_Acceptable._

Unknowingly it already served Her purpose; it had come to the place where She could make Herself heard most clearly. She drew on its memories and desires, learning its wants and fears, and weakened it, driving it towards the place of its creation. There, once it was vulnerable, She began to soothe and speak to it comfortingly, telling it what She required of it.

_Disobedience!_

Appalled, She let it run; never, ever in Her ageless span had an extrusion failed to instantly obey Her, as simply as flexing a muscle. But this one, this powerful mixture, cherished notions of free will, self-direction, and… some concept, some thought or emotion, that She was unable to internalize. It had defied her; worse, _it had thwarted Her._

Unacceptable.

Perturbed, She flowed down Her other tendrils, seeking and probing. None were entirely useful, none as suitable as the one who resisted and fled… but there was one in a fortunate position, one who might be used to break the disobediant one and bind it to Her will… yes. The heady rush of anticipated success began to infuse Her as she whispered softly, seductively to the extrusion who would place that tool firmly in Her grasp.

Satisfied, She withdrew back into Her dreaming doze, watching distantly as the events She had set in motion played out. She herself would act when the proper moment was at hand.

All times were Her times.


	8. Scattered Thoughts

The bullet plopped onto the sandy floor of the cave and rolled towards the fire, staining the ground a deep crimson. Sephiroth hissed and clamped his good hand over his collarbone to staunch the bleeding as he reached for a bandage. Bad timing had sent the projectile into his shoulder; bad luck had sent it against the grain of the muscle, and he had torn the wound badly hauling the girl out of the collapsing Temple and up the mountainside. It would have been easier had she been conscious and able to run, but her panicked hesitancy would have killed them both.

That would never do.

He wound a thin strip of gauze around the injury and under his arm, once, twice, three times, then knotted the ends together and began to pack up the tiny first aid kit. That done, he pulled the damn remnant of his shirt back on, wincing as his shoulder twinged, and surveyed the equipment laid out before him. Masamune, the two halves and slender quiver of the compound bow, and a host of smaller knives; armor stacked neatly against the wall of the cave, his cloak spread out beside the fire to dry, the aid kit, lock picks, a few belt pouches of miscellaneous items--the radio had unfortunately perished during the swim… and the girl, of course, who lay unconscious beside his cloak.

He sank down against the wall closest to the fire and began unbuckling his tall leather boots. Kicking them off, he slumped back, laying his face against the cool stone. The shoulder wasn't the worst of it; his joints felt as if they were full of jagged glass, a sharp, piercing pain throbbed through his temples, and his mouth and throat were so dry they felt like leather. Had been, in fact, since he had exited the Temple; and he had the horrible suspicion he knew why.

_I am in no mood for threats._

But no crystalline, slithering voice echoed back mockery at him; bad as he felt physically, the low, jangling buzz that had filled his head since Nibelheim had been replaced by a warm, soothing silence. Had, in fact, since he had begun the climb from the Temple an hour ago.

Interesting indeed. He turned his head to regard the girl's prone form.

Had it not been for the slight rise and fall of her chest he might have thought her a corpse, so still did she lay. Wet, smudged with dirt, her dress tattered, she nonetheless retained her air of delicate, fey beauty. Her lip had been split at some point during their flight, although he had found no sign of a lump on her head where he had struck her against the pillar during the cursory examination he had given her; it almost seemed the split had closed slightly in the short time it had taken him to see to his own injuries.

Also quite interesting.

As he watched, she tensed slightly, breath quickening, and an eyelid raised fractionally. Then it lowered slowly, and her breathing resumed its steady pace, but there was no doubt she had awakened.

"Your skills as an actress leave something to be desired," he rumbled, and coughed. He really did not want to spend the energy to rise and nudge her into attention. Thumping his chest, he continued, "We really must stop meeting like this."

Ah, that worked. Her eyes snapped open and she slowly rose to prop herself on one elbow, her lips pressed firmly together with some powerful emotion. "This morning I lost everything," she said, her voice taut with intensity. "The place I have searched for all of my life, my friends, my chance to join my people--you _kidnap _me--and you tell _jokes_--" Her voice finally broke, choked with tears.

Sephiroth watched her display dispassionately. "Yes, I suppose you would have been much better off had I allowed your _dear, true _friend to murder you in cold blood."

She flinched and looked away. "And why didn't you?" she asked bitterly.

"Because you're a naïve, idealistic fool with no real idea of what you almost did today," he snapped. "Did you see the murals in the Temple? Do you _know _why your mother's people died out? God!" He raked a hand through his hair and pushed himself to his feet. "I would kill you myself if I thought it would help--I was _sent here _to kill you." The girl was cringing now, blue eyes wide with fear; this wasn't productive. He sighed, allowing his shoulder to slump. "Look, let me tell you a story, Aeris, a story about _my _mother.

"You know why S.O.L.D.I.E.R.s are S.O.L.D.I.E.R.s, yes?" He paused, waiting to see if she would respond, but her eyes had taken on a slight glaze. "Infusions of pure mako. The program is relatively new, going back around thirty years. Shinra was just discovering this area, figuring out how to best use it. They were up further north, actually, in the Crater. They found something there."

"Jenova," the girl breathed.

Sephiroth scowled. "What did you say?" But she was no longer listening; her eyes were unfocused, and for a moment, he wondered if she was experiencing some sort of delayed concussion. But her lips began to move, forming silent words. Sephiroth's attention sharpened; she had said her voice--the Planet--didn't speak to her verbally; but he would bet anything they were having a conversation now.

"That's its name," she said finally, rubbing her hands together nervously, her voice still distant, as if she were reciting. "Jenova. It was an alien… or a virus that grew intelligent… something awful. Thousands of years ago it pierced the skin of the world with a great spell, intending to suck the life from the Planet. The Cetra fought it, and many died, but they managed to defeat it and bury it in the ice." She swallowed hard and looked up at him. "You're saying that Shinra has its remains."

His lips skinned back in a humorless grin. "Oh, better than that, they have _me_." He grinned wider as he watched the realization sink in. "And as I have recently come to know, they were not just remains." She stared up at him, wide-eyed. "It--she--is awake, Aeris, and she hungers. I am her chosen one, flesh of her flesh; through me, she wishes to work her dark miracle. But I won't let her. She isn't strong enough to make me. Yet." He shook his head. "But you are right; she is a disease, a virus, a cancer. She doesn't need to 'pierce the skin of the world,' as you so quaintly put it; all she needs is a weak spot, a place to seep in, to infect. The kind of weak spot created by, say, an Ancient dissolving into the earth." He laughed bitterly. "They say a man cannot serve two masters, but there are many who would have been glad had I done as I was told and run you through."

Aeris shook her head slowly, uncomprehendingly. "You're a S.O.L.D.I.E.R.," she said, "you're hers. Why do you care what she wishes to do? What do you mean to do with me?"

Sephiroth rubbed his eyes and sagged against the wall. Lances of pain shot through his skull, nearly blinding him. "I'll be damned if I know," he said dispiritedly, blinking at the dancing flames. "Will you fling yourself into the Lifestream anyway at the first opportunity, or get yourself killed in some futile gesture?" He shook his head dazedly and sank back to the ground, eyes slipping closed. "I don't know," he repeated. "I am more than a S.O.L.D.I.E.R., Aeris, I am a made thing. All of my life, my existence, my actions have been ordained for me by others. And now I find not even my thoughts, my soul are my own." He coughed weakly, struggling to keep his thoughts in order. "I'm going to kill her, and those responsible, and anyone else I can get my hands on who stands in my way." He cracked an eyelid to judge her reaction, but she had taken on her far away, listening look again. He closed it. "What does your voice say to that?"

Silence. A damp rustle of cloth. Then: "They say you're very sick."

"Quite observant."

"They say Jenova is the cause. It's turned against you."

He thought about opening his eyes, then discarded the notion; it was agony, and he was so tired. "Then perhaps she'll get me first, and you'll be able to kill yourself in peace. Won't that be nice?"

Silence again, longer this time; he may even have dozed. The next thing he was aware of was a cool cloth pressing against his brow. "It's only water," a soft voice at his left said. He licked his lips and tried to swallow. "No, be still. You're should be her reach here; this is still holy ground. I don't think she can make you worse here… b-but I may be able to make you better."

He may have nodded, but wasn't sure. Sephiroth was drifting now, almost entirely unaware… but hadn't she spoken to him not long ago, in a hall? He thought she had… the paintings there had been beautiful, but so, so sad… small hands gently pushed him down to lie flat on the ground.

Blankness again. Someone was tugging at his sleeve, rolling it up… shots? He hadn't had shots in ever so long… why had he returned to the lab, when he didn't have to any more? Fingers probed at his shoulder, sending a deep, pulsing ache through his chest. Not a test, then, they didn't hurt that way--

__

HOW DARE YOU LET HER INTERFERE WITH YOU?

His body spasmed, muscles contracting all at once in a brilliant flare of agony. He gasped, choking for breath, limbs scrabbling for purchase as his back arched, but it was as if a giant fist had seized his lungs and squeezed. He groaned.

__

SHE IS DEAD. SHE IS NOTHING. SHE WILL NOT SAVE YOU FROM ME, 

FOOLISH WRETCH!

Someone cried out; gray waves began to roll across his vision; he tasted salt as blood flowed from his bitten tongue.

__

YOU WILL DO MY WILL, OR DO NOTHING.

He struggled feebly; if he could only sit up, get his legs under him, move this crushing weight from his chest--

--_shock. _Hands yanked open the front of his shirt and pressed against his bare chest, radiating a wintry cold that whirled through his cells, refreshing and enervating--he drew a breath, deep and clean and unrestricted.

__

SHE CAN NOT, WILL _NOT--_

He groaned again, shuddering and writhing as his muscles unclenched. He seized the hands pressed against him, reached up, pulled their owner down against him, pulled their owner down and wrapped his arms tightly around them, craving more of the frozen, purifying wind that blew through him--

--_silence._ A high, buzzing whine echoed in his ears, accompanied by licking tongues of pain, but that shriek, that awful, devastating _shriek _was gone… and soon even the echoes had faded, leaving only the harsh sound of ragged breathing. He opened his eyes, blinking at the girl he held crushed against his chest. She smiled weakly, brushing a lock of sweat-drenched hair from his brow. "You really have to tell me your name soon," she said, laying two fingers between his eyes.

Sephiroth slept.


	9. Confusing Tales

            Aeris shivered, pulling her thin red jacket around her shoulders and edging closer to the fire. Though it was spring, the cave was at an elevation high enough to be chill, and the fire did little to dispel the bite of the wind or the damp from her plunge into the pool. It had guttered low; she wished she could coax it higher with a materia, but the afternoon had left her utterly drained. Tired, weary to her bones, she hugged her knees to her chest and leaned back against the rough stone wall. An errant gust chilled her; her dress was in tatters from the knee down, but she was too exhausted to rearrange it.

_sorry Aeris needed to use Aeris couldn't touch_

            A warm, ticklish feeling began to flow from the base of her skull and spread slowly through her weary form; the Planet's way of apologizing for its abrupt seizure of her talents. She frowned slightly, reaching up to massage her neck. Never before during the many healings she had performed had the Planet responded so, its power crashing through her like a tidal wave, spilling its icy flow into the seizuring man.

_But then, I've never had to do something like that._

She watched him as he lay, utterly still. He had changed little since he shut the gate on her that night long ago; hair a little longer, features a little leaner, he looked haggard and drawn… but he slept peacefully.

_Did I really almost… did what he say really almost happen?_

_so sorry Aeris Jenova slept and slept_

_But how? _she cried. _How could it enter through me?_

The Planet responded not in words, but images. The familiar green glow, girdling the earth; a smaller, brighter shoot of green darting into it--and another grayish brown dart plummeting from the sky, entering the same spot. Soon it began to spread, and shortly the entire flow was the same sickly color.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes. _Can he really kill it?_

_Yes no maybe_

More images; the Lifestream up close, rushing and roaring like a great river; a small, feminine figure splashing into it; the Lifestream boiling furiously, breaking the figure up, carrying the pieces far apart, dissolving as they went.

A sharp inhalation startled her out of the reverie; glowing green eyes gazed at her unblinkingly. "Was that… was that your voice? Those pictures--the green river?" came hoarsely out of the darkness.

She swallowed hard. "That was the Lifestream itself," she replied. _And I don't know how you saw it._

He stood up slowly and came to the fire, sinking down across from her. Shadows played across his features, giving him and otherworldly look. Finally he blinked, lowering his chin to rest in his palm. "I suppose this makes us even." She gave him a puzzled look. "I have saved you from your folly twice now," he continued. "But you silenced her--you pulled me back." The light in his eyes flickered out. "…Thank you."

Aeris chafed her hands, looking away. "That wasn't me," she responded. "The Planet itself came to your aid."

"I think you sell yourself short," he said, but did not pursue the subject. He pushed his hair behind his shoulders, reflecting golden in the firelight. "So. I throw her physical form into the Lifestream, and your ancestors will eat her. Very kind of them."

Aeris flushed. "You make it sound so cheap--so tawdry!" she cried, suddenly angry. This vile, self-centered man was the one to bring down Jenova and its keepers? "Doesn't _any _of this mean anything to you? We are speaking of something that wishes to _end all life, _and you, you--"

"And I tell _jokes,_" he intoned dramatically, rolling his eyes. The corners of his lips twitched.

Aeris froze; then helplessly, she began to giggle. The ridiculousness of the situation struck her; here she was, in an isolated cave overlooking the ruins of her ancestors' home with a crazed warrior she knew nothing about, her friends captured or dead, having just learned of a threat to her world's very existence--and she complained of his sense of humor! Her giggles escalated into outright laughter.

He watched her quietly, a neutral, carefully pleasant expression on his face. When her laughter subsided, he continued, "In all seriousness, however, will the Lifestream truly do that to her? Her great wish is to enter it herself… this would seem only to expedite that.

Before Aeris could gather herself to respond, more images washed over her--no, them. A human hand; then the view plunged down, diving through pores and skin and muscles. The inside of a vein; but the reddish-blue flow was dotted with sickly yellow obstructions. Soon a flood of smaller white particles swarmed through the passage, surrounding and obstructing their view of the yellow particles; then as quickly as it had come the white cloud departed, leaving no trace of their meal behind.

"So," he said speculatively. "So. That solves that question. I think it will work." His gaze resettled on her. "I am still unsure of a proper place for you, however."

Aeris dropped her eyes back to the fire, nervous again. He wasn't going to kill her, but would he… harm her? She had glimpsed his thoughts briefly during the healing, as she always did; wild, brilliant and strong, yet she had never encountered a personality so closed and focused. Who knew what he might do?

For now, he seemed content to remain silent. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the sheathed sword and one of the pouches. Unsheathing the katana and laying it across his lap, he removed a whetstone and a bundle of rice paper. He began to carefully hone the blade's edge, buffing it afterwards with the paper. "Your friends are still alive," he said suddenly. "Or at least, some of them are."

Her heart leapt. "Did you see them? Were they alright?" A horrible thought occurred to her. "Did you… talk to them?"

His lips twitched again. "I am missing and likely presumed dead, just as you are." The soft scrape of the stone punctuated his words. "I saw the Turks leaving with them--no, I don't know who, or how many; even I cannot pick out such details at such a height." He licked a thumb and ran it across the fresh edge. "Our orders were to take you all back to headquarters."

She bit her lip, worrying at the question. Ugly as the thought was, why take them anywhere? AVALANCE was Shinra's most visible enemy, why not just… put them out of the way? Questioning? Torture?

Worse?

"Why?"

His mouth hardened. "It wasn't my concern."

Settled back, Aeris continued to be unhappy. He probably was telling her what he knew; he didn't seem to think she was worth lying to. Thinking the way through Shinra's layered schemes was probably just as difficult for him… and Aeris didn't have to fight for control of her faculties. She shuddered; she had lived with the voice of the Planet all of her life, but it was a gentle, friendly presence, always comforting, never intruding; to have it grow cold and alien, invading her thoughts, attempting to dominate her actions…

But her friends were alive, they all were, they _had _to be, Barrett, Tifa, Nanaki, Cait Sith… Cloud. They were brave and resourceful, but even she realized that without help, they were doomed. She blinked back tears. She was a Cetra, the last of an ancient, powerful race… but she was so weak, so _useless._ What could she do for them--pray?

_Aeris is clever Aeris is useful_

_I thank you for that, _she thought with only a twinge of bitterness. Was this how the man sitting across the fire felt--confused and overwhelmed by events? Was there anything behind the cold, mocking exterior?

Of course there was; she had felt the hot, trembling rush of his power years ago, and it had still been there this morning; weak and flickering, but definitely in evidence. Knowing now what he was, it seemed even stranger--how could someone born of decay itself feel so vibrantly alive? Why did it call to her so? "You never did tell me your name, you know," she said gently.

He arched an eyebrow. "And why is that so important to you?"

"I'd like to know who you are," she responded simply, a little puzzled; he seemed unduly disturbed by the question. "Everyone had a name." She smiled shyly, struck by an inspiration. "Even kidnappers."

His brows knitted together fiercely; then he snorted out a guffaw. "I begin to understand your lack of appreciation for jokes," he said wryly, sheathing the sword and laying it beside him. He nodded his head formally. "I am Sephiroth."

"I am very pleased to make your acquaintance," she replied primly, straightening her knees and folding her hands, for all the world as if she were at a tea party. No laughter this time, but his eyes had softened a bit. Aeris bit her lip, judging the man before her as carefully as she could with what little she knew of him. It was a wild hope, but it was the only path she could see to her goal, faint as it was. He seemed as if he meant to do all that he said--that he _could _do it--and he had never harmed her out of spite… She gathered her courage, then barreled on. "Look, I know you don't need me, but I want to help you stop it. I hate Shinra too--I've spent years fighting them--and they have my friends. I want to help my friends," she finished lamely, dropping her gaze and blushing furiously--she couldn't bear to see the disdain in his eyes. "I won't get in the way--I, I mean, I can heal you, if you get hurt, um, fighting, or if Jeno--your moth--that _thing_ makes you sick again… a-and I speak to the Planet!" she continued with a sudden burst of inspiration. "They won't help you if I'm not with you!"

**_AERIS_**

_Please, I don't know what else to do, please don't be angry! _she thought desperately, looking up to see what effect her last invention had had.

Sephiroth's expression had returned to its normal careful pleasantness. "Really? Are you sure of that?" He leaned forward to rest his chin on his fists. "Tell me, do you remember your parents?"

"What?" Aeris blinked, startled by the strange question. "My parents? Of course I do; my mother is still alive, and--"

"Your _real _parents."

"Oh." Why was he so curious? Had he ever had a family? Did he want stories of a normal childhood to placate him? "I remember my mother, Ifalna, very clearly," she said slowly, wondering how to choose her words. "She was taken from me when I was very small, though. My father--"

"--was Professor Gast, a scientist very highly placed in the Shinra corporation. Progenitor of the Jenova Project, actually." His eyes danced with vicious humor. "I really gave you only a short version of my genesis, this morning. Jenova's favored child I may be, but I'm quite the mutt, genetically speaking--bits of Jenova, humans… and _Cetra. _Where did that come from, I wonder?"

"No," Aeris murmured, eyes widening in shock. "He _wouldn't_ have--"

"He did indeed. Conceptually, one could say he is my father--it was he who started the whole mess, at any rate. And there is none other my Cetra heritage could have come from than dear, lost Ifalna." He leaned close enough to reach out and touch her, the dancing flames making his wicked grin look positively satanic. "You and I are practically _family. _Do you really think your Lifestream would turn away the prodigal son, returned to the fold to do a good deed?"

"No!" she gasped again in denial of what he had told her, scurrying backwards.

_YES_

A biting gale howled through the cave, momentarily deafening her with the force of its screech. The flames leapt and darted, and Sephiroth jerked back to avoid the sudden shower of embers that flared over him. As quickly as it had come, the wind ceased; a heartbeat later the fire popped out of existence, the wood that had fed it as dry and gray as if it had been out for hours. Aeris hugged her knees to her chest and huddled against the wall of the cave, numb with shock.

Sephiroth seemed galvanized. "'Yes,'" he snarled, springing to his feet and raking a hand through his hair. "Your madness is catching, girl. 'Yes,' it would turn me away, hmm? Good God, even the bloody Planet will have nothing to do with me!" He laughed, a dangerous note of hysteria in his voice, and whirled to glare at her. His hands clenched into fists and seemed to struggle for words as his gaze burned into her. Finally his shoulders sagged and, sighing, he raised both hands in a gesture of defeat. "Fine. Fine. Since I have set myself this insane mission, I may as well see it done 'properly.' Go to sleep," he said dully. "We leave at dawn. She's in Nibelheim." Shaking his head dazedly, he turned and strolled towards the mouth of the cave.

Aeris rested her forehead against her knees, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. _Well, I've gotten what I wanted, _she thought tiredly, _the Planet _lied _for me_. _Now what on earth can I do with what I have?_

_necessary needed must_

She choked on a laugh. _Of course. What else? _Sitting up and rubbing her aching neck, she looked towards the mouth of the cave, but could see no sign of her new companion, save the tracks of his bare feet in the light dusting of the snow falling outside. _He wouldn't abandon me without taking his boots. I hope. _Sighing, she began to settle down to snatch what sleep she could from the remainder of the night, but her eyes continually crept to the footprints, slowly filling with snow. 

_God, _she thought, as sleep stole over her, _my evil twin!_


	10. Moonlit Meeting

Mei leaned forward carefully, craning his neck in an attempt to catch sight of the travelers foolish enough to stray from the road without rattling the bushes he was hidden in and betraying his presence. They couldn't be too far off now.

The band had been following them for most of the afternoon and deep into the night, skulking through the forest, watching, assessing, and trying to determine whether the pair was worth the effort. The little woman looked easy enough; it was her companion, the tall, hooded fellow, who looked like trouble. But times were hard, and they were starving; and neither of the travelers seemed to notice the 'escort' they had acquired; a positive sign.

He hoped it would at least be quick. In the short run, fear and hunger far outweighed one's conscience; the robberies didn't bother him anymore, after spending a few weeks with the band. The killings, though… he suppressed an involuntary shudder. He hated the killings; hated the small part he played in them. His father would have been disgusted, had he been alive to see what Mei had come to.

He had said as much to Jacqui, the first time he had done it. Jacqui, who had been all consolation and welcoming warmth when she and her men had come upon him, a lost young boy, wandering in the forest between North Corel and Nibelheim. She had listen to him as he explained himself, how he had left Wutai in search of work in one of the cities, how he needed to care for his ailing mother, how fruitless the search had so far been. She had nodded understandingly, offering a hot meal, a place by the fire, and a lift to North Corel if Mei would perform a small, simple favor for her.

None of that understanding had been present later that night. "Aye, and the bastard who sired you is _dead_, along with all the other foolish shinobis. Can't expect much from the spawn of a man stupid enough to fight Shinra--you're lucky I _fed _you. In fact, I don't think you're worth wasting meals on--not until you've proven your worth. Get out of my sight--and don't dare _think _of running." Her fingers had slipped down to caress the maul that hung at her hip as she smiled odiously. "Crippled children are _so _endearing."

Mei had stood before her, openmouthed with shock. "But you said--"

Her leather-gauntleted hand caught him a brutal backhand, splitting his lip and knocking him to the ground. He had wailed in pain, clutching his ruined mouth. "Not another sound!" she snarled, kicking him in the ribs. Choking, he had done his best to swallow the sobs.

"Here, lad, best do as she says," a rough, alcohol-thickened voice had rumbled as a massive paw descended on his shoulder and yanked him upright. The hand's owner grinned down at him, exposing a mouthful of rotten teeth. "Welcome to our lit'le fambly."

The sharp crack of a branch snapped Mei out of his reverie. Quickly orienting his gaze, he saw the two travelers approach. The young woman scurried along the narrow track almost as nimbly as the deer who had created it, but it must have been she who made the noise; the man following her seemed almost to glide along the trail.

Carefully, he watched their progress, mouth dry with anxiety and fear. When he judged the distance sufficient, he dated out onto the trail.

"Ma'am! Sir!" he gasped, feigning exertion, "help, _please _help! My parents, my--"

The woman hurried to him and dropped to one knee, grasping his shoulders. "What's wrong with your parents? Where are they?" she asked urgently.

"They--help--there were thieves," he panted, scanning the treetops for Jacqui's men. He caught sight of Marco, moonlight glinting off his belt buckle. That meant Delilah and Jared weren't far behind, and--

The man had noticed his gaze, and followed its direction. "Why, you little _wretch_," he hissed, reaching over his shoulder and whirling around.

"What--?" The woman turned to look at her companion. Mei took the opportunity to wrench himself from her hands and dart back into the bushes as the night erupted in screams.

It _was _quick. Jacqui's men dropped from the trees, howling their war cries, while Jacqui herself erupted from the underbrush and took a vicious swing at the man. He produced a glimmering sword seemingly from thin air, blocked it easily, then neatly spitted her. Jared battered at the woman with his cudgel; somehow she snatched it from his hands, smashed the end into his nose, and, spinning the staff, turned to face her next assailant. The next few moments were a confusion of violence; Mei cowered down as far as he could. Finally the man turned towards the woman, expecting another attacker; she faced him, the two she had felled collapsed around her feet.

His hood had fallen back during the struggle; Mei could see the look of mild amazement on his features. "I am most pleasantly surprised," he said.

The woman spun the staff again, planted it into the ground, and leaned against it. "I told you I wouldn't get in the way," she panted, smiling. "I know how to deal with monsters."

"Indeed." The man walked over to survey the bodies at her feet; Mei could see that at least one--it looked like Marco--was still breathing. The man nudged him with a boot, and was rewarded with a groan. Almost casually he hefted the sword.

"What are you _doing_?" the woman gasped. "You're not going to just kill him!"

"I'm not?" The blade flashed down, a spatter of gore blackly visible in the moonlight. The woman uttered a small shriek. "Not this one, either?" Another flash, another gout. Mei couldn't restrain a whimper.

The woman seized the staff and uprooted it, holding it before her as she backed away from her companion. "You _murdered _them! They were unconscious--there was no need--and you--you--"

The man bent down, tore a strip from Marco's shirt, and began wiping off his sword. "A band of robbers set upon us in the woods, intending to do God knows what, and I murdered them. I see."

"They were _unconscious!_ They _couldn't hurt us any more!"  _The woman put an arm out to brace herself against a nearby tree, the hand that held the staff rising to cover her mouth.  She retched.

The man rounded on her, flinging the bloody rag at her feet. "No, they couldn't hurt _us _any more," he snapped. "You bragged about having dealt with monsters a moment ago--these are worse. These are men, _humans, _who _choose _to do this. Would you have them free, to fall upon the next travelers who get lost? Travelers who don't 'know how to deal with monsters'?" He snorted. "Never mind if they realized who I am and decided to share that information." The woman, head bowed, clutched the staff even tighter, but made no reply. The man sheathed his sword and turned away. "At any rate, their bait is still running around loose."

Mei swallowed with difficulty. It was far too late to run now; he'd never get away. His only hope was to stay very still, and pray he had inherited some of his father's abilities. _I _am _a shinobi, I can do this, I can escape--_

"Aha." Mei howled as the hand clamped around the scruff of his neck and yanked him out of the bushes to dangle a foot above the ground.  He was shaken roughly, and writhed desperately to free himself.  The hand merely squeezed tighter.  "Although perhaps I give your sort too much credit.  You are no man, but I fail to see how a _human _child could consent to an act such as this."

_"I DIDN'T WANT TO!" _Mei shrieked, thrashing again.  _"I WANT MY MOTHER!_  I want to help her, I came here to, and they found me, and they made me—" he sputtered, gasping as the man's fingers dug into his windpipe.  He grabbed at the hand holding him, clawing frantically for release.  

"You will not hurt this boy," said the woman, barely audible.  Gray spots began to dance across his vision.

"This is the same story we heard a moment ago—"

The woman lunged across the clearing, and there was a sharp crack as her staff glanced off the man's skull.  He danced back, dragging Mei with him, and was suddenly holding the end of the staff away from himself at arm's length.  The movement caused his grip to loosen slightly and Mei heaved in great whoops of air, wheezing.  The woman was trembling with the effort of keeping a grip on her weapon.

"You will _not _hurt this boy," she said again, her voice ragged with strain.  "He is a _child._  I don't _care_ what you think about it; he is _not _evil, no matter what he's done.  You let him go."

"And you think you can stop me?  Stop me from doing your precious Planet a favor by removing this filth from it?"  He hauled on the end of the staff, nearly wrenching it from her grip.

"I don't know if I can.  But we'll find out."  Her voice quivered on the last words, but she held firm, meeting her companion stare for stare, the silence stretching long between them.  Mei was dazed, still struggling for breath, and oddly disconnected from the situation; he was hearing his life and death discussed, but he was too tired and hurt and frightened to feel its immediacy; it almost seemed as if they were arguing about something else…

He hit the ground with a thud, branches scraping him cruelly as he slid into the underbrush.  "Go, then," the man spat, breaking his gaze with the woman to glare at Mei.  "Go fast, and go far."

The lady nodded slightly, then stepped over to Mei and once again knelt before him.  She fumbled at her belt, and then pressed a few coins into his limp hands.  "If you really have a mother, and you really want to help her, head back to the Corel Road," she said tiredly, and tried to smile.  "We passed a trader caravan yesterday morning.  Catch up with them; they will at least take you out of the wilderness."

Mei licked his dry lips, trying to form words, but his throat was too sore for speech after the crushing grip it had been held in.  He swallowed a few times, and was finally able to wheeze, "Thank you."  Tears finally began to trickle down his cheeks.

She reached out and brushed one away with her thumb, her smile more firm this time.  "I think you had better do as he says, now."

He nodded, levering himself to his feet, and began to head back the way he had come down the trail as quickly as he could.  He stole a last glance over his shoulder; the silhouette of the lady, kneeling on the path as if in prayer, and the dark, fearsome shape looming behind her, all limned in moonlight.


	11. Spreading Sickness

            Sephiroth sank down to his haunches and buried his face in his hands, hair pooling around his boots amidst the dust and grit of the stone floor.      

She wasn't there.

            He had known she wouldn't be, of course.  There was none of the jangling, grating buzz that heralded her presence as they approached Nibelheim; no cold sweats, no nausea, no pounding headache, none of the things he had experienced prior to beginning his journey with Aeria.  When he reached the summit of the mountain trail and entered the cool, dark womb of the defunct reactor's chamber, nothing had greeted him save silence, punctuated by the occasional echoing drip of water.

            _No, not nothing, _he thought, digging his nails into his scalp.  Think, _assess what you've seen._

There was no mistaking the pods lining the wall of the main chamber for anything but experimental holding cells.  Very old, covered in filth, many with cracked viewplates; a few bearing traces of disturbingly unidentifiable substances; none, however, were occupied.

            One of the pods was of great interest.  Cracked open, the hinged double doors yawning wide, the grit before it was obviously disturbed, swirled bi the passage of a heavy object pushed through it, dotted with indistinct footprints.  That pod had been Jenova's home, he guessed, and some one, or some group, had evicted her from it.

            He scrubbed at his eyes, hoping to relieve the sudden burning behind them, and settled down to sit cross-legged, peering disconsolately around the grim chamber.  It held no new information for him; he gnawed at his lower lip, wondering what in God's name he was supposed to do now.

            It had seemed to easy, crouched in the Temple's balcony, swept away in an ecstasy of sorrow and black, bloody fury; steal the girl, prevent Jenova from using her, then hunt down and destroy the monstrosity that had spawned him and the vile beauracracy that had nurtured them both.  Even as he had set out on his pursuit, trailing the hapless Cetra like a comet's tail, his reserve had never wavered.  Now, though, the trail had grown cold; for the first time in his structured, methodical life he found himself unsure.  Lost.  No backup squad; no intranet to call on for more information; no air support; no _anything, _save his own frustrated confusion.  

            And the girl, of course.  Aeris.

            So weak.  So frail.  So evidently useless, with her delicate Midgar constitution, her tiny body, her sanctimonious morals.  It galled him, like bitter ashes in his mouth, but she had proved invaluable on the journey.  It shocked him how much he didn't know, how many basic facts of life living in Shinra's sheltered grasp had kept from him.  Reaching into a belt pouch, he pulled out a featureless credit chip and regarded it caustically.

            It had quickly become obvious they would need more in the way of supplies from their journey after arriving at Icicle Inn.  He had gathered them swiftly, and habitually reached for the chip to purchase them when it struck him just how swiftly Shinra would descend on him once they traced the chip's use.  Unsure of how else to proceed, he had seriously considered simply killing the merchant; Aeris, however, swiftly ascertained the nature of the problem and interceded smoothly, making the purchase with worn gil coins.  The first time she had stepped in to cover for him, and infuriatingly, not the last.

            She never brought these incidents up to him, but that too was strange.  She didn't refrain from mentioning them out of fear of his ire, as one of his men might have; she seemed to realize how discomfited and embarrassed these faux paxs made him, and simply didn't want to upset him.

            Not that she bit her tongue on any other smart remark that might occur to her.  She had grown more relaxed since their encounter with the bandits, and often had a pithy comment to make on the various things they encountered.  Sephiroth grudgingly found himself coming to enjoy her surprisingly dry sense of humor, which she kept up in the face of his most foreboding silences.  Unable to ignore her, he was instead drawn out; much of the last week had been passed in witty banter.

            They never spoke of their reason for travelling together, though; the merest hint of it was enough to dissolve a conversation into anxious silence.  He knew it hurt her terribly to think of her captured friends; many an anecdote had been choked off mid-sentence, and often, as he lay awake in the long watches of the night, the rise of the moon would be accompanied by her stifled sobs.  She was always smiling the next morning, though, and asking him if he'd slept well, almost daring him to question the bruised circles under her eyes.  He could help but admire her refusal to admit her pain; was beginning to wonder if there was anything he could do to ease it.

            Clenching his hand into a fist, the credit chip shattered into meaningless shards of plastic that rained down as he rose to his feet.  Painful as she might find it, the time had come to discuss their shared objective. She or her planetary voice might have an insight; if they didn't… well, then, there would be things much more pressing than hurt feelings to worry about.

            The main square of Nibelheim was much more subdued that afternoon than the overcast, threatening sky accounted for; people hurried about the market with their heads down, urgent to finish their errands, and Sephiroth found it no trouble to ghost around the edges to the Shinra Mansion without being seen.

            The familiar burble of the Shinra private-band station greeted him as he stepped through the secluded entrance.  Aeris had been fascinated by it ever since he had reconnected the short-wave radio.  Broadcast in the slang-filled, company-specific dialect Shinra employees spoke, he doubted she could understand much of it; that didn't keep her from listening raptly.  He meant to ask her, unslinging the Masamune as he walked into the library.

            "Happy Birthday!"

            The question died on his lips as his brow furrowed._  "What?"_

Aeris peered at him over the stack of files spread out on the wide desk before her.  "You're not nearly as old as I thought; the white hair really throws it all off."  She broke into a sunny smile.  "I would have baked you a cake, but somehow, you don't strike me as the type."

            Sephiroth frowned, thoroughly puzzled.  "What _are_ you going on about?"

            "Silly, you turned thrity two weeks ago!  Why didn't you tell me?  Oh, wait, let me guess."  Aeris dropped the paper she had been holding, straightened in her seat, and schooled her features into a mask of disapproval.  "Company regulations do not permit birthdays!"

            "I imagine they don't," he said sardonically, stepping around the desk to scrutinize the file she had been reading.  "Was I meant to have it?"

            "What, a birthday?"

            "No, white hair.  Was it supposed to be colored?"

            Aeris's eyes sparkled with mirth.  "Is that a hint of vanity I detect?"

            Sephiroth hooked his ankle around a nearby chair and dragged it over.  "Absolutely."  He sat down, tilting his head to continue his reading.  "Haven't you noticed most first-class SOLDIERs have, ah, creative hairstyles?  It's actually encouraged.  It shows that they're such mighty warriors they can be trusted to groom themselves."

            She whooped with laughter.  "And you, being the mightiest of all, don't have to worry about someone tripping you up with your silky locks."

            Unaccountably stung, he allowed his annoyance to creep onto his face as he grinned ferally.  "Exactly."

            "Um."  Aeris quickly dropped her gaze, shuffling through the papers spread out before her.  "I don't think it was in here, actually, or if it is I didn't see it—oh!"  She looked up at him with a pained expression.  "I'm so sorry!  This is really none of my business—"

            He waved her off.  "It's available to anyone with the right clearance; I can hardly grudge it to you."  Seeing her continued distress, he hastened to change the subject.  "Learn anything else of interest?"

            "Nothing you don't know already," she said with a grimace.  Propping her chin on her fist, she regarded him uncertainly.  "I—I guess we're kind of where we started, with that."

            Silent for a moment, he debated how to use the opening she had given him.  "No," he finally said with a sight, "we're worse off."  Meeting her curious gaze, he confessed, "Jenova is gone."

            She went pale at the mention of the name.  "What do you mean, gone?"

            He bounded to his feet and turned to stare at a bookcase.  "Gone.  Not here.  Elsewhere."

            "But—can't you follow her?" she quavered.

            He spun around to glare at her.  "Aeris, we seem to have a breakdown of very basic communication here—"

            "No, listen!"  Aeris stood, wringing her hands, but did not step away.  "The Planet is always with me, in the back of my head, like a hum—"

            "I hear no _hum_."

            "I said _listen!_"  She stamped her foot, blue eyes bright with tension.  "There's places in the world, wellsprings of the Lifestream, temples, _special _places.  When I get close to them, the hum gets louder—and if I listen closely enough, I can follow the hum to them.  That's what I meant.  Maybe you can do that with her—it."

            "That is the _stupidest_—"  He stopped.  "A hum, you say."

            "Yes."

            "And it leads you to these special place."

            "Yes."

            It wasn't nearly as crazy as many things he had recently learned to be true.  "Alright," he said, sinking back into the chair.  He ran a hand through his hair.  "Is there anything special I need to do?"

            "No—not really.  Just relax, and listen for it.  Maybe—maybe try thinking about her."

            "Think about her.  Right."  He cloased his eyes and leaned back, reaching up to massage his temples.  There was no one in his head but himself; this whole magic business smacked of nonsense—but there was really no other option.  Materia, though… materia at least made 

_sense—_

_            Materia._  He quickly marshalled his thoughts into the rigid spear of will required to operate materia.  Summoning his recollections of how contact with Jenova had felt, he held them foremost in his mind, and _thrust._

Vertigo washed over him, and he had a vague sensation of his palms striking the carpet.  It was entirely secondary to the dizziness, the feeling of travelling at an unimaginable speed, and a low ache that quickly throbbed into agony—

_The prodigal son!_

            He slammed into Jenova like a wall, her horrid influence engulfing him like quicksand.  His body thrashed, choking as he tried to vomit, and the sound of metallic laughter filled his perception.

_Have you thought better of your disobedience?_

            I am not disobediant I AM NOT YOURS— 

"Sephiroth!"

            _Sephiroth!_

A jumble of sights, sounds, smells, everything as he writhed in Jenova's mental grip.  She squeezed crushingly tight at the sound of his name.

_YOU HAVE NOT LEARNED!_

            Sephiroth! 

_            Aeris--!_

_            Sephi—_

"—roth!"

_LEAVE HIM BE!_

"—come back, hang on, I've got—"

_LET HIM GO!_

            _--you, come back—_

"—PLEASE!"

            Small damp hands against his face, cool, blessedly cool, turning him over to lie on his back.  He twitched, struggling to maintain contact with that icy purity.  The hands cupped his chin, a soft voice frantically murmuring a prayer or a threat or both, and he coughed, hot bile burning his throat.  His eyes felt as if they were glued shut; he pried one open to behold Aeris's terror-stricken countenance above him.  He coughed again.

            "You were right… she was there…"  His voice sounded pitifully weak in his own ears, and his vision began to swim.

            "_You_ were right, that was _stupid, _so _stupid, _I can't believe I told you to do that—_no, _don't sit up!  Don't you dare sit up!"  Her marvelous hands on his chest now, pushing him back down, but there was something _else_ wrong…

            "Now _stay_ there!  I need to go get my things, but you'll be fine, just stay there—stay!"

            Footsteps pattered away.  With no immediate prospect of her soothing touch, he settled back to absorb what he had—seen?  Jenova, yes, and much more besides, but it her so badly to even _think _about it, and there was something else, something that looked different…

            He was so wrapped up in he hazy contemplation that he scarely noticed her return.  She worked quickly on him with a handful of materia, whispering feverishly all the while, and slowly the dreadful miasma began to recede.

            "Aera.  Mnot—I am.  Not.  Dead. Not going to be."

            "But you almost were, and I _told_ you to do it!  This is really bad—"

            "Aeris."  He heaved an eyelid open, regarded her as critically as he could.

            "Shhh, don't talk yet, save your—"

            _"Aeris," _he snapped, mustering as much command presence as he could.  "Your eyes."

            "What _about _my eyes?"

            Sephiroth forced himself to wave a hand towards the long mirror that hung behind the desk.  "…They're prettier than mine."

            "You—are—_crazy!"_

            "Go—go look."  He levered himself up on one elbow, and swatted at her when she attempted to push him back down.  "Go _look."_

Aeris balled her hands in frustration.  "If I do, will you promise to settle down?"

            "Fine.  Go look."

            With an exasperated sigh she leapt to her feet and stomped over to the mirror.  He took the opportunity to grab the chair and haul himself into it; he nearly lost his balance when he heard her startled gasp.

            Leaning back, he could see her reflection over her shoulder.  Her eyes were gleaming, dusted with the same molten green his own burned with.  She stared at herself in shock.  "I take it that's"—he hawked and spat into the trashcan beside the desk—"that's not normal."

            As if snapped out of a dream, she turned and hurried over to him.  "No, it's not," she said, kneeling beside the chair.  "It's never happened before, I don't know what it is, but let's not worry about it now."

            Sephiroth wheezed a laugh and waggled his fingers at her.  "Cooties."

            Aeris giggled, covering her mouth with her hands; then thought better of it and rocked back on her heels, shaking with peals of laughter.  They held a definite note of hysteria, but were laughter nontheless; Sephiroth began to chuckle along with her.  "Alright," she said, gasping for breath, "I guess you can't be dying if you can still laugh at your own jokes.  A _bad _one, no less."

            He smiled.  "I said as much.  That wasn't nearly as bad as the last time.  You—helped."  He looked down at his hands; then, on impulse, reached out to take one of hers.  "Thank you.

            _"ALL POINTS BULLETIN!"_

They both jumped in shock as the radio blared, and she snatched her hands away.  The broadcaster, strain obvious in his voice, lapsed into plain language as he barrelled on.

            "All available units to SH-142, I repeat, SH-142, all available units.  The President has been found dead, believed to be murder, perpetrator believed to be one Cloud Strife, 5'10", blonde/blue, last seen in SH-142-99.  All floors are locked down, and I repeat, all available units to—"

            _"No!"_ Aeris shrieked, digging into her cheeks with her nails.  "No!  _No!_"

            "Aeris, wait—"

            She bolted from the room.


	12. Rainswept Rezendevous

                The sky split with a deafening crash, the storm's promise finally fulfilled with drops of rain plummeting, needlelike, hissing on the pavement as Aeris pounded away from the house.  The smell of damp cement filled her nostrils, almost as suffocating as the dread and anguish that crushed her heart.

Aeris Aeris Aeris 

                _No!  No more!  I can't, not anymore, I've done everything I can, but this is too much, I can't take it, _she thought frantically.  Rain stung her as she left the mansion's grounds for the wet grass of the foothills.  She slipped, stumbled, righted herself, continued her headlong flight.  

Aeris stops Aeris waits 

                "Please, just _stop _it!" she screamed into the howling wind."  With a supreme effort of will she seized the warm place in her mind and throttled it.  The Planet wailed disconsolately; but for the moment she had blocked it, leaving it unable to do anything but keen maddeningly in the back of her mind.

                She reached the base of Mount Nibelheim and began to clamber over the tumbled stones, unable to do anything but follow her desire to flee, to fide from the terrible news.  The jagged rocks scraped her palms cruelly, and she scrabbled for toeholds, but she continued upward doggedly; perhaps if she could get far enough, high enough, away, it wouldn't seem so bad—

                "Aeris!"

                The shout startled her so badly she lost her grip, skinning her knee painfully; she glanced over her should in time to see a bolt of lightning light Sephiroth's form in negative silhouette.  "Not you _too," _she moaned, and redoubled her efforts to climb.

                "Aeris, damn you, _stop!"_

Thunder roared again, loud enough to send pebbles skittering down past her.  The gale whipped raindrops into her face, obscuring her vision, but she managed to scramble over the last outcropping and gain the brief respite of a flat, muddy plateau.  Her foot sank deeply into the mire, and her ankle twisted, sending her tumbling forward.  A viselike grip on her bicep yanked her just short of falling.

                "What in God's name do you think you're _doing?" _Sephiroth panted, raking his sodden bangs out of his eyes.  His grasp loosened, but held steady as she struggled for balance.  He grabbed her hip and pulled her upright.  "I'm amazed you haven't broken your neck!"

                Aeris couldn't believe what she was hearing; her misery and confusion transmuted into blazing fury.  "And what a _terrible _shame it would be if I did!  You wouldn't be able to use me in whatever half-baked scheme you have for fighting Jenova!  That's all you care about!"

                "What I care about is getting _off _this mountain and _out _of this damn storm—"

                "As if you know how to care at all!"  Wrenching free of his grasp, she staggered back toward the rock.  "Do you know what it's like to worry about someone?  To be terrified of what might be happening to them?  Do you know what it's like to _lose someone, _you cold, inhuman—"?

                "No, I am _not _human," Sephiroth snarled back at her, "and neither are you."  The roll of thunder underscored his words.  "I _don't _know what it's like to sit around mooning after someone; _I _know about duty, and perseverance, and getting a job done instead of whining about it.  For God's sake, they haven't even caught him yet—never mind that the rest of your friends are still there!"

                "As if they _won't _catch him!" Aeris sobbed, the hot flush of anger draining away under the deluge.  "I know how cruel they are—they'll probably kill the others—"

                "They very well may," he spat.  "But let me hasten to assure you that bawling on a mountainside won't do a _thing _to change it.  It all rests on you, Aeris—Jenova, your friends, _all of it!"  _Whirling, he pulled a dagger from his belt and hurled it at her.  Aeris scrambled backwards much too slowly, but it only plunged into the mud at her feet.  "So choose, Aeris, settle it.  Play your part and do something about it—or finish it here, for all of us, and spare me your _incessant _puling."

                Numb, Aeris sank into a crouch, her unseeing stare fixed on the knife before her.  She was dimly aware of raindrops striking her skin, of Sephiroth's wild green glare, of the Planet's thrumming struggles to break into her thoughts.

                It would be so easy.  None of it needed to matter; how important could the fate of the world be to a denizen of the Promised Land?  Abandoning her friends would cause only a small twinge.  They were much more resourceful than she; if they hadn't figured out how to win free of Shinra on their own, it was unlikely there was anything she could to do help.

                Or was there?

                She looked up at Sephiroth, towering above her with his arms folded across his chest and his hair whipping around him in the near gale.  He had never shown the slightest interest in her friends' plight, yet now he threw it in her face.  Had he learned something else from Jenova?  Had he changed his mind?

                Did it matter?

                Slowly, she raised her hands to her face.  The downpour had washed away her tears, but she knuckled her aching eyes.  In her heart of hearts, she knew it didn't.  Rescuing them was a foolish idea, probably impossible; but any of them would do the same for her.  Had, in the past.  She swallowed with difficulty; now even the thought that she had been willing to abandon them to their fates made her feel cowardly, selfish, and small.

_everyone doubts_

                The familiar presence stole into her mind like a soothing balm.  She laughed shakily; for a few moments she had even turned her back on the Planet.  What vanity!

_everyone stumbles_

_love you, Aeris, love you, always_

_forgive forgive forgive_

Covering her face with her hands, she smiled.  People had always marveled at her unflagging cheerfulness, never guessing the true cause for it.

_need them_

_they need Aeris_

_                I know, _she thought.  _And they'll get me.  As much of me as there is to give.  And as for Cloud…_

                Unable to finish the thought, she reached forward and pulled the knife from the ground.  It was deceptively light in her hand; such a slender, insubstantial thing, and yet capable of so much.

                She rose to her feet and met Sephiroth's gaze.  He still stood impassively, not even blinking the rain from his eyes, but sparks danced in the verdant depths of his gaze.  She shifted her grip on the hilt, possessed by a sudden desire to fling it back at him, and he tensed at the movement; she slipped it into her belt instead.

                "So," she said as casually as she could.  "What exactly did you have in mind?"

                His shoulders sagged slightly, and he let out a long, hissing breath.  "First," he said after a pause, "we go back inside."  Aeris nodded.  He held her gaze for a moment longer, as if searching for something; then he turned and began to pick his way down the tumble of stones.  "By the way," he called over his shoulder, "you'll want to clean that."

                "But who knows what that really did to you—and then you had to come chasing after me—"

                "I am not your pet, Aeris, nor yet your personal disaster area."  Sephiroth snorted.  "Although I have spent an inordinate amount of time half-dead since meeting you.  I'm sure I can survive another few minutes unassisted."

                "But the last time—"

                _"Aeris.  _If you do not go change into something warm and dry this _instant _I will do it _for _you, which I'm certain you'll enjoy a great deal less than I will."

                Flushing, she ducked her head.  "Fine," she mumbled.  "But don't do anything too—too—"

                "Go!"

                Unwilling to press the issue after that dubious threat, Aeris quickly padded back to her room, leaving a damp trail behind her.  A quick search of her back revealed nothing but garments so filthy they'd likely dissolve into sludge if she donned them in her current waterlogged state.  Biting her lip, she glanced around the room.  She couldn't exactly go back to the library wrapped in the bedspread, but she remembered seeing a few things hanging in the closet.

                Rummaging through it, she discovered an ancient men's bathrobe, musty with age and matted from disuse.  She frowned, but it was more than big enough, and there weren't really any alternatives.  Sneezing, she pulled it out, stripped off her wet things, and shrugged into it.  Satisfied that its heavy folds provided plenty of coverage, she swept back to the library.

                The beginnings of a fire crackled encouragingly in the grate, and a few cushions from the couch were scattered before it.  Sephiroth was approaching them with an array of glassware carefully balanced in his hands as she entered.  "I see you haven't bothered to change," she said acerbically.

                "I weather better than you do," he replied placidly, settling down cross-legged on one of the cushions.  "Come, sit," he continued, setting the glass items out before him.

                One of them proved to be a decanter of burgundy liquid, which he poured into two goblets as she sat across from him.  She regarded the one he handed her dubiously.  "What is it?"

                He sniffed at his own.  "Cognac."  He wrinkled his nose.  "I think."

                "Oh, I don't drink alcohol—"

                "You do now.  Consider it medicinal."

                Aeris scowled, but didn't see the point in arguing—she didn't want to find out if he'd really pour it down her throat.  Remembering Barrett and Tifa taking shots at the bar, she steeled herself and gulped it down—and coughed, sputtering, as rancid sweetness burned its way down to her stomach.

                Sephiroth grinned.  "Cheers," he said sardonically, sipping his own.

                "Oh, my," Aeris gasped, thumping her chest.  "It certainly is—errhrrm—warming—oh, no, I don't want any more," she protested as he refilled her glass.

                "As you say."  Unfolding his legs he stretched out, propping himself up on one elbow, swirling the contents of his glass.  He seemed content to stare at the ceiling while she got herself under control, which Aeris was grateful for; it was a struggle not to retch.  _People do this for _fun? she wondered, sniffling.

                Yet even after she regained her composure, he peered moodily into the shrouded heights.  Uncomfortable, Aeris wondered how to break the silence.  After the exchange on the mountain, a light joke was hardly appropriate; an uneasy tension coiled within her, but she could not put words to it.  _He came after me… to offer me a knife.  To tell me to… but he came after me!  _Fretfully, Aeris tugged the ribbons from her hair and began to untangle the matted wetness of her braid.

                Finally Sephiroth gave himself a small shake and drained the remnants from his glass.  "So.  Jenova is in Midgar."

                Aeris looked up.  "So… so it worked, then?  I mean, obviously it _worked, _but…"

                His lips quirked.  "I would hardly describe the experience as anything similar to acting as a celestial compass, but yes, I made… contact."  He shook his head.  "It was… well, it was informative.  She wants to go home."

                The tone of his voice chilled her.  "Home?" she asked, taking up the goblet and rotating it in her hands.  Nervously, she took another sip.

                He nodded slowly.  "I think that's it, anyway.  She is difficult to understand.  She needs a wound to infect; she wants to use the original one she made long ago, when she arrived on the tail of a comet and fell to earth.  The North Crater."

_anathema_

_blasphemy_

_anathema_

                Aeris started at the vehemence, the blistering venom of the Planet's response.  Ancient, implacable fury surged through her mind, setting her nerve-endings ablaze with a righteous, overwhelmed rage that was not her own.  Her hand clenched the glass so hard she thought it must surely shatter.

_devourer_

_killer_

_deceiver_

                And then, just as suddenly, it was gone, leaving her achingly bereft.  With a shudder, she unwound her fingers from around the goblet and carefully set it down, then pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples.

                "Your voice didn't like that, did it," Sephiroth said quietly.  "Bad memories?"

                "S-something like that," she replied shakily.

                "Your eyes flared."

                "Enough about my eyes!"  She squeezed them shut, willing her headache to subside.

_as they should be_

_propriety rightness beauty_

_                Enough, _she thought wearily.  _Enough.  There is still only so much I can worry about at once._

                "Aeris?"

                _"What?"_

"If you lean over any further, you're going to set yourself on fire."

                With a jerk, she straightened, suddenly aware of the roaring blaze of heat that bathed the right side of her body.  She shook her head, trying to orient herself.  "Alright."  She took a deep breath.  "We don't have to worry about the Northern Crater, do we?  Why would anyone take her there?"

                "A good question, but not necessarily one that applies.  I am not the only one alive who partakes of her essence.  These others will not be able to resist her as I do; they are flawed.  She can make them do as she wishes."  He pinched the bridge of his nose.  "I don't think it matters, though; just melodrama… ritual.  All she really needs is a place where the mako flows… a reactor, a natural formation, anything like that."

                "So she doesn't even need to leave Midgar."  She blinked muzzily.  "She could… could do it right now."

                "No."  His eyes gleamed with more than reflected firelight.  She wants _me.  _There are others, as I said, but she doubts their ability to do… whatever it is.  I'm not certain.  It's something poisonous, something devastating… and it requires a suitable sacrifice."

                Aeris smiled wanly.  "So we really are in the same boat.  Where does that leave us?"

                "In need of assistance.  She is in Midgar.  Your friends are in Midgar.  It seems a good place to start.  It would be an even better place to finish."

She stifled a yawn.  "It just seems to easy.  And… she wants bother of us—either of us—near her at the Lifestream… but that's where we need to take her…"  She struggled to finish the sentence, but her train of thought had been utterly derailed.  It was difficult to keep her eyes open.  

                Soon, even that was impossible.


	13. Vagabond Visitor

                They were beautiful.

                Moonlight stole through the library's great bay window, painting the room in a faded palette of charcoals, the glow of the fire's banked embers providing the only real illumination.  But it was more than enough for him to see by.

                She was a small figure, huddled in front of the fireplace, a quilt casually tossed over her prone form.  The orange glow played over the flowing waves of her hair, the shadows giving its color a darker cast.  It was lovely.  It reminded him of—

                No.  No it didn't.

                The one he had truly come to see sat upright in the wing-backed chair beside the mantle, files spread in his lap, elbows propped on the chair's dusty arms.  Tall and lean, even in repose he radiated a sense of capable ferocity, like the sword that leaned against the wall beside him.  He wondered what it would be like to see this so-familiar stranger bound to his feet, silver hair swirling around him, to run, to leap, to lunge… it would be exquisite.  But his face…

                Ah, it was heartbreaking.

                The eyes.  Large, widely set, tip-tilted, with the small, barely noticeable fold at the inner corners… they were her eyes, set in this strange man's face.

                It was terribly, simply terrible that they both represented such physical perfection.  Did their inner beings match their flawless outward representations?  They couldn't.  That would be even worse.

                It would be easy enough to find out.  He could make a game of it; how close could he get before his hosts detected him?  Could he slink across the room, and stand between the two of them with his back to the fireplace?  Could he touch one of them?  Stroke their alabaster flesh?  Lean around the side of the wide chair and whisper into an ear?  

But it would upset them so when he was discovered, as he inevitably would be.  Make them frightened, angry, unwilling to take his good will seriously.  It would break his heart to see either of this pair unhappy.  There was quite enough negativity to go around… for the moment.

                His eyes.  _Her _eyes.  The eyes he had never thought to see again, let alone minted anew in an unknown countenance.  The long, delicate lashes… that now shielded the faintest of peridot gleams.

                The smile pained him.  "They always wondered about that," he said, voice hoarse with disuse and emotion.  "Whether the glow would give away your positions at night."

                Sephiroth opened his eyes completely, giving him a flat, unreadable stare.  His heart twinged, seeing such a callous look in that gaze, but he squelched it fiercely.  It was not her gaze, not her calculating hostility.

                That had been years ago.

                "I'm sorry.  What a terrible non-sequiteur," he continued, watching Sephiroth intently for signs of movement.  "Please don't reach for your sword.  I don't mean any harm to you right now."

                "To me?" Sephiroth asked.  "What do you mean, then?"

                He exhaled slowly, the boiling froth of his soul just barely restrained.  His shoulder blades were suddenly lances of pain, burning seams within his back.  He inhaled deeply.  "I mean harm," he rapped out, "all _sorts _of harm.  But not here.  And not now."  He tried to smile again.  "No.  I mean to tell you a story.  It's one I don't think you know.  At least, not what really happened."

                "And why exactly should I listen to this?"  His voice was rough and grating, entirely at odds with its owner's appearance.  A failure.  A flaw.  Utter perfection had not been produced.

                What a shame.  What a terrible, terrible waste.  Nevertheless, marring the man further would solve nothing.  Not tonight.  Perhaps not ever.

                Perhaps.

                Really, it was just too amusing, that it had all come to _this_.  "Because it bears on your past, and quite possibly on your future.  Your masters are hunting you, Sephiroth."  He laughed bitterly.  "Because I've never told a bedtime story before."

                Sephiroth's eyes sparked, casting a brief fey glow over his features.  Almost beautiful enough.  Almost perfect enough.  "Go on, then."

                "Mmm."  He leaned lightly against a bookcase, settling himself.  He had planned this encounter out scrupulously, imagining it taking place in a million different settings, playing out in a thousand different ways, having a hundred different resolutions.  But he had never, ever guessed what her son had truly become.  No matter; no matter at all.  The tale, and its telling, were paramount.

                Sephiroth had to know.  Had to know what he had truly cost.

                "Once upon a time," he began.  "Yes, that has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?  Once upon a time, there was a man named Vinnie.  Vinnie also worked for Shinra; was in fact a Turk, one of the President's personal bodyguards.  He spent a great deal of time at the company headquarters.

                "It was there that he met a young research assistant, a ravishingly beautiful young woman named Lucrecia.  She had—she looked—" His throat tightened.  Oh, it hurt; it still hurt so badly, just to see her in his mind's eye.  "Well, she looked quite a bit like you, Sephiroth.  Not nearly so strapping, of course, but… but, he met her there.

                "Since this is a fairytale, I'll gloss over the next bit, except to say that they fell deeply in love.  But all was not as it seemed; Lucrecia had played him false!  For she was already promised to another man, a doctor and scientist named Hojo."  His mouth curled.  "Ah, I see you know that name," he said, seeing Sephiroth's eyes widen fractionally.  "Much to your regret, I imagine.

                "Where was I?  Ah.  Yes.  Neither man was particularly happy with Lucrecia's deception, and it came out in such an unfortunate manner.  Lucrecia was carrying a child, you see; a child each man thought was his.

                "It was Hojo, ever the good scientist, who first discovered the duplicity—blood work or some such—that the child was not his.  Vinnie found out about it shortly thereafter, when Hojo shot him in the back."  The pain had been like a supernova, crisping his brain with infernal agony… the feeling of utter helplessness when he had tried to rise, failed to even crawl away… the needle plunging into his neck…

                A soft gasp interrupted his reverie.  The woman, Aeris, had awakened; was propped up on one elbow, staring at them in shock.  "Your pardon for waking you, lady."  He touched the brim of his hat.  "Vincent Valentine, your servant."  Her glance flicked briefly to Sephiroth, then back to him.  Such an attentive child.

                "Something tells me you're just getting to the exciting part," Sephiroth interrupted, his gaze never wavering.

                "Oh, as to that, I really couldn't say.  Hojo decided to try out a few modifications on Vinnie"—he shrugged back the shoulder of his scarlet cloak, allowing moonlight to wink off the beastly, wretched steel claw—"as well as some exciting research in the field of stasis.  It was quite successful; I myself have only recently picked up the thread of the tale again.  Though as I understand it, Vinnie was not the only one to be experimented upon… and that the child grew up to be quite the SOLDIER."

                "You're not his—" Aeris clapped a hand to her mouth.

                "If you're expecting an outpouring of thwarted filial devotion, you are sadly misguided," Sephiroth said coolly.

                Was he?  Was that what he had hoped for?

                "I?  Oh, no.  Vinnie died, more than thirty years ago.  I am only Vincent.  But I… owe a duty, to him and his.  I tell you this tale simply to be informative.  And by way of explanation as to my presence tonight."  He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his mind suddenly swirling.  "I had… my first visitors in quite awhile, two days ago.  Fellow—other Turks, just like Vinnie.

                "It appears Shinra has misplaced their greatest general.  It seems that general has absconded with a girl they are most interested in reclaiming.  They worried that those two would steal something of great value stored in the area, and took it away with them."  He jerked his head sharply, cracking his neck.  "They wish me to apprehend these two for them."

                Terror was writ large on Aeris's face—the poor, sweet thing—but Sephiroth did not so much as blink.  Did he feel nothing?  Had he inherited none of his mother's great depth of passion?

                None of Vincent's own?

                "I believe I can spike you to the wall before you can draw that gun at your hip," he said.  "Shall we find out?"

                Vincent could have laughed with glee at Sephiroth's stubborn fearlessness—_that _was pure Lucrecia, right enough.  "How presumptuous!  I said I owed a duty, did I not?  This is it.  Your warning: run."

                "And why should I let you go, now that your 'duty' is discharged?"

                This time Vincent did snort.  "I said they _wished _me to apprehend you.  I never said I was _going _to.  I have another duty…"  His hand suddenly ached to caress the butt of the pistol; the claw twitched of its own volition.  "…a duty to Hojo."

                They stayed still and silent for a long time, frozen in tableau.  Finally, slowly and deliberately, Sephiroth nodded.  "If you can get to him first."

He laughed mockingly.  "It shall be a race, then," he agreed.  He bowed slightly to Aeris.  "Lady."  He touched the brim of his hat to them both.  "Fare thee both well," he said, and faded quickly away into the shadows of the hallway, lest Sephiroth do something silly out of spite.

He was too emotional.  He knew that; he always had been.  But the boy was so standoffish… so harsh… so cold…

…so terribly, terribly flawed.

What a waste.

The storm had given way to a faint drizzle as he made his way across the lawn, striding eagerly into the wide, open possibilities of the night.  Nibelheim; he had never been here… not of his own volition.  Devil's Head; what an _utterly_ charming name for such a pastoral mountain village.  Quite appropriate, though; he knew exactly which devil's head this poor, sad farce had sprung from.  Now all he need do was decide how best to remove it from its neck.  And afterwards…

It was an insult.  It was insult to _injury.  This _was the result of all the anguish, all the pain, the grief, the loss, the ruination of lives… The pain in his back seared him again, flaring so badly he thought the skin would burst, split, spill his inner workings into the darkness.  He gritted his teeth, and raised his face to bathe in the pale light of the gibbous moon. He sucked ragged breaths between his clenched jaws; now was _not _the time for temper.

It was not the first time good wombs had borne bad sons.


	14. Fever Dreams

                Sephiroth groaned, arching his back in an attempt to tease the knots from his spine.  It was still dark out, and the damp ground radiated a dim aura of cold through the worn bedroll.  It was warm enough, though; the blanket created a comfortable seal, trapping body heat within.

                Aeris made a small discomfited noise and snuggled closer, fitting herself into the curve of his body.  Obligingly he wrapped himself around her, pulling her close and nestling her head against his shoulder.  He squeezed her, enjoying the soft, comfy roundness of her figure, and she emitted a soft trill of pleasure.

                Pleased, he reached up to stroke a loose curl of her hair, winding it between his fingers.  She snuffled, then twitched.  "Mmwrf?" she muttered.

                "Shh, it's nothing," he whispered, stroking her cheek.

                "Bllrrff," she grunted, and pulled away enough to roll over.  Lifting her head, she blinked sleepily at him.  "Hey," she said softly.

                He smiled back at her.  "Hi."

                "Mmm," she replied, once more snuggling against him.  Slipping her arms around him, she deftly wove her legs between his, rendering their bodies a contented, cuddly tangle, her hands sliding slowly down his flanks.  "Mmm," she said again, as her hand wrapped firmly around his erection.

                Sephiroth sighed, arching his back again for an entirely different reason.  He gasped as her fingers clenched, which earned him a low chuckle.  He reached up, intending to grab her shoulders and roll her onto her back—

                --but his hands encountered wet meat, gristled with veins—

                --and there was so much _blood_—

                Sephiroth sat bolt upright in his bedroll, gasping for air.

                "Um, good morning," came Aeris's voice from a short distance away.  He whipped his head around; she crouched across from a new fire, the small iron skillet she carried dangling from one hand, her skin intact.  "Uh… would you like an egg?"

                He blinked stupidly, trying to reconcile himself to waking reality.  "No."  He shook himself, grasping at threads of normality.  "I've always thought it's terribly unsporting.  They ought to at least get a chance to run away.  Besides, isn't that awfully disruptive to the natural order of life and death or some such?"

                She grinned, holding up a pair of speckled blue eggs.  "When you find a nest, take half and leave half.  The Planet only requires so much bird poop."  With a practiced gesture she cracked both, dumped their contents into the pan, and lifted it over the flames.  The sizzle reminded him of the sound of blood splattering on metal floors.

                Running a hand through his hair he leaned forward, bracing himself on his heels.  It had been a nightmare; not exactly unfamiliar territory, though he had not remembered his dreams at all for many years.  He snorted with wry amusement.  _How stereotypical of me.  I awake panting with fear from a dream of domesticity.  _Never mind the strange conjunction of images; it was all just garbage, a glimpse of his brain doing the nightly filing.

                Aeris divided her attention between him and the eggs.  "You know, I think that's the first time I've ever seen you sleep naturally," she said casually.  "I was kinda beginning to wonder if you did."

                He stretched; the ache in his shoulders had been no dream.  "You really only need four hours a night," he yawned.  "You ought to try it.  Evil never sleeps, while virtue is ever vigilant, and all that."

                She snorted.  "This particular bit of virtue is perfectly content to bask in the security 'evil' provides if it means a good night's sleep."  She attempted to flip the eggs, frowned, and leaned back slightly.  The fingers of her free hand curved and the fire leapt in answer, resuming its dance a few inches higher than it had been.

                Unaccountably, his spine prickled.  "Have I ever mentioned how unnerving it is when you do things like that?"  Sephiroth tugged his pack over and rummaged out a few strips of dried beef.

                "It is?"  She looked chagrined.  "I'm sorry.  I usually don't… most people… well, you seemed so… well, I just won't do it anymore."  She nodded decisively; the fire snuffed itself immediately.  _"Oh!"_

                He nearly choked as he struggled between swallowing the bite he'd taken and snorted out laughter.  "My, my," he coughed, thumping his chest, "don't they teach you sylvan guardians _any_thing these days?"  Her horrified expression made him laugh all the harder.

                "I must have been out that day," she muttered, grabbing a fork from her pack and jabbing experimentally at the eggs.  "I _knew _I should have enrolled in Fire 101 instead of Dealing With Obnoxious SOLDIERs 211.  And to think, I could have majored in Saving the World as opposed to Putting Up With Sephiroth's Crap."

                He smirked and leaned back against his bedroll, gnawing on the jerky with a surprising degree of contentment.  Girls who claimed to speak with the earth and wielded magic, aliens, long lost fathers, plans to assault the headquarters of the most powerful military force the world had ever known single-handedly… it was all in a day's work, evidently.

                _Though why I believe him… if I do… _But he hadn't _dis_believed Vincent, which was the important thing.  While he certainly understood the concept of parents, it was something he had never internalized; he had to have come from somewhere.  It was a pathetic little tale, as tawdry and low-class an origin as that of any Third-Class conscript, and hardly seemed like something that could involve him.  But it was hard to disregard Vincent's intensity, his mad, single-minded devotion.  Lucrecia must have been a remarkable woman.  Perhaps it was her Sephiroth took after.

                He scowled, annoyed with himself.  _As if I could take after _anyone _after all the work that's been done on me.  You don't hear of golden chocobos warking wistfully about _their _lineage.  _There was so much more to him than man and woman had provided; he had thought himself entirely unique until he had encountered Aeris.  Not that they were precisely the same kith, but she was as close as anyone was ever likely to get.

                Was that why he had truly become interested in her?  The idea that there was another—that there might be a place he belonged? 

                _And why exactly have I been overwhelmed by a fit of sentimental nonsense?  I didn't know that then; I just wanted to know what she'd done to me in the lab.  The rest all came later._

                But that touch, like so much else, remained unexplained.  She had laid hands on him to heal, and that was an unusual experience in itself, but not the same.  He rarely removed his gloves in her presence, and that phenomena seemed to want bare flesh.  He was more than a little unnerved by the results; it was lust and winter and completion and fear and… _magic.  _Because as much as it disturbed him, it still drew him; there was something there that cried out for exorcism, for mastery, and it twinged a little more each time she pulled a trick like she had with the fire,

                He almost wished that he were insane.  It would at least be comforting.

                "Penny for your thoughts?"

                He smiled briefly.  "Chicken feed for a phoenix?"  The embers of the fire still glowed, winking orange and amber in the brightening daylight.  It hadn't died, then; merely obeyed.  "I wonder…"  Materia.  Magic.  Was it really all that different?  Was it merely another sort of muscle to flex?

                Sephiroth sat up, hands clenching loosely in his lap.  Embers; it would be easy enough to lean over and coax them into flame with a breath, making good on their promise of fire.  Or perhaps he could just _will _it so.

                His fingers curled.  

                The crisped twigs obligingly flared to life, small, wavering tongues of flame that quickly stabilized, then shuddered into near non-existence.  They rose again, slowly this time, blazing with an unnatural yellow-green heart.

                "Show off," Aeris breathed unsteadily.

                Concentration broken, the sickly flames winked out.  Sephiroth stared at the remains of the fire, his mind curiously still.  He had done that.  He had called that to life.  _What an interesting development, _he thought distantly.  _How utterly mystical of me._  He laughed, a little shakily.  "Well, I'm sure that one will go over well at the next board meeting."

                Aeris searched him with her gaze, eyeing him a little warily.  Finally she shook her head and began to repack her things.  "I don't know, Sephiroth," she said quietly.  "I really don't know."

                "See?  I told you it was creepy."

                Her lips quirked in a wry smile.  "Point."

                Banishing all thoughts of it for now, he stood and gazed into the distance.  With any luck, they would reach the outskirts of Midgar today—mustn't forget to don the hooded cloak.  If all went well, they could be in the Shinra complex this evening.  Their problems would be solved—or they'd be dead.

                He wondered if it was fatalism or good sense that made him almost wish they would fail.


End file.
